Run
by Reyser
Summary: Winner of LLB and Psychic Prince's Inspirational Contest! The bodies are piling in the streets. Those who aren't dead are inhuman creatures. Those who are Marked are a group of ten called the Alliance. This group is humanity's last hope for survival. Because in a world where everything you can and cannot see is out to kill you, there's only one thing you can do...run. LxZ COMPLETE!
1. Cheating Death

**I know I don't have the time to enter another contest, but here I am! For **_**Link's Little Brother**_** and **_**Psychic Prince's **_**Inspirational Contest!**

**This was inspired by the book called, **_**The Enemy **_**by Charlie Higson. It's a great book. This is kind of a different style of writing than I usually do, but hey, I hope you like it!**

**EDIT 2-2-13: Re-edited some grammatical errors for your reading pleasure. /slapped**

* * *

He was cold.

The air was chilly, and despite the lack of snow on the ground, it was freezing. It was a lonely type of cold, Link had decided. He tightened his jacket and gripped his sword handle.

He had to be prepared for anything. He promised.

The streets were empty, and the only thing shining through the perpetual darkness was frail light coming from shattered streetlights. It was shameful, really. He looked up to the sky. It'd been a while since the sun shone, he realized. It was all dark and coldness, a blackened sun.

His eyes passed over a field of dry, torn grass. He remembered running through those fields, carefree, laughing with his friends. Not caring about the future, the only thing that had mattered was that little game.

Where were his friends now?

Dead, he told himself bitterly. Dead, leaving him to wander helplessly on the streets.

The air stank of decomposing, rotting bodies. A streetlight shone on one of the bodies, head hanging back limply, and tongue lolling out helplessly. Flies were already buzzing about, eager for anything. He kicked the body harshly.

It could have been somebody's mother, somebody's lover, somebody's sister. But now it was just one of the many dead bodies, a victim of the disease that had first swept through the town three years ago.

The disease. He bit his lip, and cruel memories came flooding back.

The disease was a new epidemic nobody had heard of before. People reasoned it had been brought by foreigners. A year ago, he hadn't cared. He decided that if it had nothing to do with him, he wouldn't care.

That was before.

That was before it _did _have something to do with him. His sister was one of the first to go. He remembered it on the headlines, flashing, loud. His mother had cried. He heard her wailing, _my baby, my baby..._

But his mother was gone too.

His little sister, Aryll, had been a sweet girl. She was scared and frail, small. He promised to protect her. That was yet another promise he had broken.

It happened so quickly, swept over her like a storm. She got weaker, more afraid. He remembered her screaming at him. _Who are you? _She screeched, throwing things at him.

It created a hole in his heart. Not that he still had a heart, after this.

Then she just stopped talking altogether. Stared outside the window, didn't smile. The only times she did speak was when she whispered, _run as fast as you can. _

He didn't understand. Now he did.

He considered he was lucky that his sister just died, quietly, leaving the world. Those who were touched by the disease but still lived—

No, he wouldn't think about that.

His mother had gone too, then his friends, leaving him alone. All alone.

Was there anybody else out there, alive?

Link thought it was a harsh fate, to be left alone. Why didn't the disease claim him? Why didn't it take him to the Sacred Realm above, where his sister and his mother and all his friends were? Why did it leave him here, to try and survive in a living hell?

He scavenged through the streets, hungry. The Followers had taken all that remained, taken the food, taken all remains of life. It was so empty, so cold.

He heard a scream, a yell, a shout, and tensed. Whirled around, only to face a mass of Followers.

They were pale, with horrid scars scratched across all of them in what seemed to be marking. Their eyes were red, with no whites. Just inhumanly staring, though never seeing, and they howled.

They were remains of what seemed to be human. Human? Link scoffed at himself for even _thinking _of such a thing. They all grasped crude weapons, knives, spears, swords, sledge hammers...

He bit his lip, and heard Aryll whispering to him faintly...

_Run as fast as you can. _

And he did, turning around the corner, footsteps echoing on the blood-stained stone streets.

* * *

Link hid himself in the corner, cloaked by shadows. His heart was thumping wildly out of his chest, and he pressed himself flatly against the wall. He could almost _smell _them. They were still there. They were hunting him. His hands wandered back to his sword, and he held his breath.

There was no sound, nothing, and it was frightening standing there in the shadows. As if a Follower would suddenly jump out, and drag him down to hell. He was too far from the streets—the fake lights from the street lamps wouldn't shine here. The sun had been covered in darkness for a while now. He blinked in the utter darkness, trying to rein in his wild heartbeat. It was quiet, still, too still.

Like something would happen, shatter the unnaturalness of the moment.

The silence was burning in his ears, and Link sent a silent prayer to the Goddesses and peered around the corner, looking back the way he came. There appeared to be no Followers from that direction. He strained his eyes, looked further back, and saw the vague outline of the crowd. Though they were blind, the Followers had an inhuman sense of smell. They'd sniff him out like a beast, and then slaughter him like a pig. He turned the other way and thought he would drop dead where he was standing.

A larger, more organized group of Followers were coming from that side. They all wielded heavy axes—axes that could easily cut through flesh and bone as if it was nothing. The tallest, sturdiest Follower stood as the leader in the front. He squinted, trying to remember. He decided to call him the big Follower. The big Follower could have been a butcher, a teacher maybe, or a soldier who was going to go off to war before the disease struck.

That was the curse to those who survived the disease, those who were touched by the hand of death but didn't fall. They become pawns, wandering creatures. Followers.

He couldn't even bear to think of what might have happened if Aryll survived the disease. She would have become one of those _monsters. _

They were getting closer, the two groups. Would they close on him? Would they kill him? He hid in the shadows once more, praying never to be found.

There was a howl.

No.

It got louder, closer. Creeping up on him. Threatening to swallow him whole.

No.

It got louder, still, closer. He heard footsteps.

One, two, three. There was yet another howl. He was in hysterics.

_No!_

He turned, slowly, steadily, only to be face to face with the big Follower. It screeched, loud in his ear, and swung the axe.

But Link was faster. He prided himself on his speed.

He whirled around it, the sword was out now. He delivered a quick chop to the legs, and smelled blood. Hopefully it wasn't_ his _blood. The Follower screamed again, swinging blindly. Link felt like his lungs were going to burst.

Fear was building up, like a parasite clinging on to him. The Follower would smell his fear. Would track him down. Then he would be lying dead in a lifeless pile on the ground, a hunk of useless flesh.

No, it wouldn't happen to him. He wouldn't let it happen.

His breathing was heavy and his head was pounding, it was insane, so loud. It was almost like the world was in slow motion; he couldn't hear anything but the fierce shouting of his own heart.

There was yet another swinging of the axe. He wasn't so quick this time, and it hit his shoulder, the heavy blade slicing into his skin. Link bit his lip, trying not to scream. Trying not to wail out to the Goddesses, _where are you now?_

Blood stained his jacket and the pain was burning like searing fire in his skin. Like teeth ripping through his flesh. There was so much crimson, yet he knew there'd be more.

The big Follower could smell it now. The smell of blood was thick and heavy. Link could have drowned in it.

The pain in his lungs was taking effect now. He could see it—his chest would burst. Then the Follower would devour him whole. He took a deep, heavy breath, and tried to ignore the burning pain in his shoulder.

He had to fight. Then he would run and die in peace—he'd rather die in the corners, hidden, than be eaten alive by a _monster. _

_Run as fast as you can._

He grunted in effort, drew his blade back, and swung. It sliced through the Follower's legs, and with a piercing howl, the big Follower crashed to the ground. His lungs felt heavy in his chest again. His shoulder cried tears of blood.

The big Follower was still alive—but not for long. He swung the sword forward again, and the howling stopped. The screaming stopped. And he was alive.

But the rest were coming. They would avenge their leader. You fought well, Link, he told himself, admitting defeat.

Sure enough, he looked around the corner. His ears drowned in the storm of howls, grieving howls. Link was amazed that they could even mourn for their dead. They were coming.

_I'm sorry, Aryll. I'm sorry, Mom._

Link sank back into the shadows, sagged against the wall with closed eyes. Waiting. His arm was going numb, and his hand jolted with pain. He didn't bother opening his eyes to check. There was another blast of fiery pain on his wrist. The pain in his shoulder seemed to explode, and it took all Link's self-control to avoid screaming out in pain.

_Dear Goddesses, let this torment end soon. _

Yet death didn't come as quick as expected.

His weary eyes opened, and he saw a blur of movement, a rush of wind, the smell of a battle. A group of—he assumed they were people, it was the more appealing decision—people were fighting the Followers, slaughtering them. He watched, mesmerized. How could they cut through the Followers like they were dead grass?

That was the last thing he saw before everything went black.

* * *

Link woke up, and found himself in a bed. A _clean _bed, on _clean _linen sheets. To his horror, he realized he was in nothing but his pants. His blood-soaked shirt was gone, and his shoulder was wrapped in bandages. He reached for the soft blanket and wrapped it tight around himself.

He had lived.

He tried to stand up, get up, tried to look around. Where was he? Who were those people? Why had they saved him?

Somebody pushed him back into the bed, and startled, he fell back onto the sheets, a look of surprise on his face.

"You're not well enough to walk yet." A woman piped up from the chair next to the bed. He was startled. She was there? Had she changed him?

The woman saw his look of surprise and giggled, a sound that rang in his ears.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Peach, the nurse who works for the Alliance." She extended her hand casually to him. The Alliance? Is that what they called the group who saved him? Did Peach save him?

He looked her over, contemplating her. She had a round, pretty face and wide, cornflower blue eyes. Her face was framed by curls of blonde hair. Link doubted she could fight all, let alone fight for the Alliance. His eyes drifted towards the three loaded pistols at her belt and he swallowed, shoving those thoughts aside.

"Did you save me?" he croaked. His voice was hoarse in his throat.

"I wasn't at the fight when it occurred," she answered cheerily, "I was at the camp when they brought you in."

He considered this for a moment. They? Who exactly were _they_?

"Why did they save me?" he blurted. The question just slipped from Link's mouth, and he wondered if he would regret it.

Peach shrugged.

"The captain ordered you to be saved and patched up immediately."

The captain? He had never met this captain. What did they want with him? Link was certain they weren't on the side of the vicious, inhuman Followers, but he wasn't so sure they were good either.

"Speaking of the captain," she started, and stood up, heading for the door, "they'll be speaking and checking up on you later."

He gave her a blank look. Peach nodded towards the tray of food on a cart next to him. Where did they manage to find this food in the ruins? He took a bite gratefully.

"Eat up. I have to go tend the other patients." She left with a bubbly wave, and Link could only eat his food in silence and shock.

He was alive. That alone, was a miracle. But Peach, the nurse, mentioned the Alliance. She was part of the Alliance. Judging by this information, Link told himself that the Alliance had saved him.

But why? Why did they? Why didn't they leave him to die in peace? Why didn't they let him see his mother, his friends, and Aryll again in the Sacred Realm?

Link gulped. In all honesty, he was happy to be alive.

There it was again. That pain in his hand and wrist. Link sank back onto the pillow, shivering faintly.

He heard the door open and close, and a young man strode in. The young man was in a skin-tight body suit. His hands were wrapped in bandages, and his face was hidden by a cowl.

The captain, Link assumed.

"So you're awake." The captain spoke, in a vague, almost feminine sounding voice. Link felt the captain was scrutinizing him with dark, blue eyes.

"I am," he answered awkwardly. What else was there to say? "Thank you-for saving me, I mean."

Link asked himself a question: did they save him or did they just prolong his torment? The numbing pain in his wrist and hand returned and he flinched.

The captain dismissed this with a wave of his hand, and pulled down the cowl. The bandages came off, and Link stared into the eyes of perhaps the most stunning woman he'd ever seen.

The captain was indeed, a woman. Her hair fell down in dark, brown waves. She held herself with a dangerous kind of elegance, and met Link's shocked gaze with dark blue eyes and a cool expression. She was pale, not like a Follower, but not sun-tanned like Link.

He remembered with lament that the sun was now covered in black. There went his tan, earned by surfing and playing football on hot summer days.

But that was the least of his problems.

"I'm Zelda. The captain." She reached out, and he shook her hand. She had a firm, strong handshake and her gaze did not waver.

Link wouldn't lie—she was an intimidating woman. A beautifully intimidating woman.

"If you don't mind me asking," he started, trying not to be rude, especially under the stare of the captain, "but why did you save me?"

"And why not?" She said instantly. He swore a smile touched her face. "Why didn't the disease claim you? Why didn't you become a Follower?"

They were all questions he could not answer.

She sat down on the chair next to his bed and leaned close to him, gaze flickering to his bandages. He felt uneasy, queer under a woman's gaze. Link knew it was silly, but he felt scandalous, especially without a shirt.

Her hand instantly flew to his wrist, where the pain was throbbing, and he gasped in surprise.

"Do you see this?" she asked quietly. She drew her hand aside, and he looked in shock at the marking that lay before him.

There, on his wrist, was a circle. The vague marking was a circle, with what seemed to be a cross etched in the corner.

She lifted her dark curtain of hair and showed him the exact same marking at the base of her neck.

"This marking is what stopped you from the disease. Everyone in the Alliance has this marking." She looked at him, and he nodded.

Link couldn't really comprehend what was happening. This strange mark...was it there before? Why had he just noticed it now? Had it really saved him from the disease?

"This marking shows that you are a skilled fighter." She nodded towards him. Was that admiration in her eyes? "I saw you take down the leader of that group of Followers. It was impressive, except for...minor casualties." Her hand drifted towards the bandages. Link pulled the sheets back around himself.

He felt a distant feeling of anger. Why? Why did he have the marking? Why wasn't it Aryll or his mother? Why did he, of all people, live in place of him?

"What's the job of the Alliance?" he asked suddenly, overwhelmed by questions. There were just so many things he longed to know.

Whether Zelda could answer, he wasn't so sure.

"We are going to track down the source of the disease and put an end to this madness." Zelda's eyes flashed dangerously. Link knew she would carry out that promise, if it wasn't such a silly dream.

"How?" he asked sceptically. Something gnawed at him, telling him it was going to be a disrespectful question, especially to the leader of the group who had saved him. "Are you going to march up to the Sacred Realm and kill the Goddesses for unleashing this plague upon us?"

Her nostrils flared. A ridiculous voice in his head mentioned that she was sexy when angry.

"Are you really so naïve? Do you think the Goddesses gave this to us? Do you think this is natural?" she stood up, towering over him, face hid by a curtain of her dark, brown hair. "Well, they didn't. Somebody did this. They wanted us to suffer. They wanted something."

He stared back in defiance. Link disliked being scolded like a child.

"That's our mission," the captain continued coldly, and leaned even closer towards him. "To stop whoever unleashed this curse upon us, and find people like you with the Mark. To join us, the Alliance, and then start over. Kill the source of the disease."

Link contemplated this for a moment. The captain wanted him to join this so-called Alliance of people with the Mark? The captain wanted him to fight more of the Followers to achieve her foolish dream? Did the other members of the Alliance agree with her? How many members were even in the Alliance?

It was crazy. His head was still pounding, and the bitter pain in his shoulder was seeping back into him.

"What if I don't want to join you?" he asked her boldly, feeling a faint light of defiance. "What if I don't want to fight and join your Alliance?"

The captain pulled away from him and strode swiftly towards the door.

"If you had a choice, don't you think I would have already asked you?" she said, and laughed, though it was a dry, humorless laugh.

Link sat up, gaping. His mouth opened and closed like that of a fish, and he was aware that he probably looked like a fool. Her eyes met his. Link didn't tear his eyes away, couldn't admit defeat. Zelda's eyes darted towards his hand where the pain was, and she couldn't mask her shock. He wondered what had her so shocked and before he could ask, she quickly regained her composure and straightened her back.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said sharply.

The door slammed behind her.

* * *

**This was definitely longer (and later!) than expected. **_**Link's Little Brother **_**and **_**Psychic Prince, **_**I hope you like it!**

**Please review! **


	2. Marked

**I was really happy with all the positive reviews! Thank you so much guys! Especially everyone who said I was an amazing author—that really made me smile. (Dopey, I know.)**

**Thank you to the people who reviewed, added this story to their favourites, alerted, and thanks to everyone who just even read this story.**

**Onwards!**

**EDITED 2-2-12: Still editing this story. I'm quite proud of this, just so you know-or maybe it's the perfectionist bug. Other stories (WFTM) will also be fixed up- though that one will be completely rewritten. **

* * *

Zelda pressed her back against the door, eyes wide. There was a blank expression on her face, a sort of emptiness behind her eyes, and her lips were slightly parted.

That mark—the one on the boy's hand. It had a supernatural glow to it, and it seemed as if it was talking to her. Where had she seen that mark before? Her left hand flew instinctively to her right hand and she chewed on her lip nervously.

Who exactly was this boy?

She refused to admit it, but he bothered her. Everything—from the glowing mark on his left hand, to the large, sturdy blade, his matter-of-fact tone and his disbelief in her dreams... She obviously didn't need to be a rocket scientist to notice his sceptical tone when it came to her dreams. What was so ridiculous about stopping the disease? She knew she could do it.

But suddenly it felt so..._pointless. _So empty—what was the point of creating an Alliance if they had no idea where the enemy even was? It was all pointless; the boy had made sure she understood. How could the Alliance, a pitiful group of six warriors, take on the bringer of this disease? The Followers were everywhere—hidden in the shadows, dancing behind the glass, and most likely feasting on the unlucky ones who couldn't run away.

She suddenly felt very small, nothing but a tiny, lonely speck on the face of the ruined world. She didn't feel like Zelda, the captain of the Alliance, she felt like Zelda, the scared girl in her brother's clothes. The scared girl who was chasing a fleeting dream.

Zelda sighed, and wiped sweat from her brow. Her hands were wrapped in bandages again, but the cowl and the mask would stay off, she decided. The fortress of the Alliance was in the Hyrule region, the remnants of the castle where the governor used to live.

The young governor—her older brother. They were enclosed in heavy, stone walls that her ancestors had made sure were sturdy—surely they'd be safe here? They had good defences, despite the amount of members. There were bombs and projectiles, fire arrows, canons, the secret stash of war items that the region was supposed to use in an emergency. This technically _was_ an emergency, the epidemic from hell.

She wiped sweat from her brow again. Why did she suddenly feel so small, so timid? Why did she once again feel like the girl who could do nothing but watch as her parents were dismembered before her very eyes? Why did she feel so _useless? _

There was no place for a useless captain. I need to be strong if I want to accomplish my goals, she thought in a sad attempt to motivate herself.

Once more, she'd be tall, be strong, and be their leader. The feared captain, the tall, proud captain.

The captain who wasn't afraid of anything.

Yes, that was who she would be.

* * *

"They seem to have gathered another member for their Alliance, lord."

A tall, heavily-built man with rippling muscles knelt down on one knee. A black, silk cape flowed from beneath him, making him look like one of hell's angels. A jewelled crown of sorts sat atop his flaming, curled hair.

The white carpet, now stained scarlet, felt odd beneath his knee. It stank of rain, damp and imposing. The rain smelled dead—but then again, everything suddenly smelled dead in a world that lay in the path of destruction. Ganondorf forced his head lower. It would be lethal to act disrespectful.

The man on the throne crossed his legs. He was a ruthless man—Ganondorf's lord. He had hair the colour of snow—tainted snow. His eyes were blank, vacant blue holes, scrutinizing Ganondorf. Ganondorf was one of those with the Mark and Power from one of the divine, and the lord had decided him to be a powerful ally. The disease refused to sweep over him, and now he was powerful.

_Yes, power..._

Those who once had opposed him now lay in heaps on the ground, hunks of rotting flesh. Those who once had sneered at him were now mindless animals. Those who still lived feared him.

And yet there he knelt, before the throne. He was a leader, the leader of the warriors who remained. It was his job to shape the group of mindless animals into something even more fearsome. To them, he was something to be afraid of. Intimidating, even, the warrior. The general. But to the lord, he was nothing but a servant.

A lilting voice sang to him.

_You shall get your turn soon enough, my lord. Power shall always succeed..._

The man on the throne grimaced. His mouth was set into a firm, straight line.

"This is...unfortunate." The man on the throne started. His tone of voice was cool. "I thought they would have surrendered by now, with the disease still heavily advancing. Is the girl still trying to scrap up bits and pieces of what is left?"

Ganondorf began to feel uncomfortable on one knee.

"Yes, my lord. She seems to have crafted a group of warriors. She plans to rebel." It wasn't a good sign—a rebellion. The girl was little more than a frightened child, but she was a leader and they had killed her brother. She wanted revenge, and she certainly wouldn't give up without a fight.

But the question was—could she pose as a possible threat to his lord's empire?

"I wonder how long she thinks this can last." Ganondorf's lord mused. His head rested on his chin, and the blue, bottomless eyes stared emptily. "Not very long, I suppose."

"Why don't we just kill the girl?" Ganondorf asked. It might have been a stupid question for a general of the dead to ask, but it was something he longed to know. "Why not just kill her now and squish the threat before it gets larger?"

"We must be patient. We already have Wisdom, after all." Tabuu was referring to the girl's brother, Sheik. The Wisdom mark only ran through the rulers of Hyrule, and was typically a male. Sheik was gone, and so Wisdom was now theirs.

Or at least, Wisdom should have been.

"And what of Courage?" There were three, blessed with power from the divine. Power, Wisdom, and Courage. They were all marks imprinted on their hands. Ganondorf felt his mark of Power glow faintly underneath his heavy gloves and his hands suddenly felt uncomfortably sweaty.

The lord on the throne smirked. It was a hideous kind of smirk, the kind of smirk the wolf gives before killing the sheep.

"Just leave that to me." As much as Ganondorf accepted and feared his lord, how could he just dismiss the girl and Courage as if they were nothing? They were certainly more than nothing. And with the girl starting a rebellion...

He opened his mouth to protest, and then promptly shut it. His mind told him it would be dangerous to even think of such a thing.

Ganondorf rose steadily to his feet. His armour felt heavy on his skin, and he bowed respectfully before heading to the large, wooden doors. The smell of dead rain was still dancing about in the air.

"Remember, General Ganondorf, that I am King. And nothing shall ever get in the way of that."

They seemed like just words, hanging in the air uselessly. But Ganondorf knew they were far more than that—more than just a threat. It was a promise.

"And so you are, Lord Tabuu."

He swept through the doors and through the hallways of the decrepit old castle with the grace of a killer.

_Power defeats promises, Lord Ganondorf..._

* * *

Link stretched in his bed. It was still dark outside—Link was still used to waking up and seeing the sun stretch through the windows. But that was long ago, three years. So much had happened in three years, his world had fallen apart, everything had fallen apart.

Everything was in harsh ruins.

He pressed his face in his hands and it took a minute to realize that he was in a bed, in the fortress of the Alliance. Was it even a fortress? Link took a minute to survey his surroundings and realized shamefully that he'd never paid much attention to it yesterday.

He was in the castle. In the Hyrule region. The old castle of the governor. He felt light headed—silly Link in an actual _castle. _Aryll had wanted to visit a castle.

There it was again, the hollow feeling of emptiness that chewed away at his soul.

The walls were mode of sturdy stone, high quality stone. The air smelled, thankfully, fresh. Link had gotten sick of the smell of death, the stench of fading lives had gotten overbearing.

He stood up on his wobbly legs. They felt stiff, but he'd live. His shoulders were getting better now—there was a dull pain, still there, but faint. Link felt the stabbing, incessant pain in his hand and winced. What hurt so much? The big Follower hadn't hit him there, had he? The pain in his wrist was gone, and he rolled up his sleeve. The Mark was still there, perhaps a bit bolder than bfore.

What did that mean? Maybe Zelda would know.

There was a pitcher of water sitting on the table, a lumpy bar of soap, and a rag. Relieved, Link cleaned his face and was proud to feel fresh. The scent of the apocalyptic world outside still lingered, but it was almost gone now.

Or so he liked to think.

There were clothes on the chair next to him. Sturdy, leather boots replaced his worn sneakers and the clothes were...green. Where did they even get these? You're in the governor's castle, he answered his own question. But how did Zelda, the captain of the Alliance, even take hold of the castle? He'd ask her later.

Link pulled the clothes on, grateful to feel clean. The leather jacket that sat atop the _green _clothes was warm, and had convenient pockets. Link was about to leave when he realized something was missing.

Frantically, he searched for his sword.

He messed the sheets and swept through the room, looking for his precious sword. Where was it? Had the captain taken it? Was he little more than a prisoner? He found it under the table and sheepishly strapped it to his back. It was foolish, but Link felt so vulnerable without his sword.

There. He was ready.

Link straightened his jacket and swung open the door, scared of what he would see.

He followed his nose, and he could smell food. The hallways of the castle felt creepily empty. At least they were carpeted. There were so many rooms, and he swung open a set of great, heavy double doors.

He stood before what seemed to be the dining room.

There were tables and chairs strewn askew, yet they looked strangely...organized. The smell of food taunted him. There were people sitting at the tables, and they looked up at him, and then turned back to their food.

He spotted Zelda.

"Glad to see you've managed to find your way here." Her gaze was intense, and the icy, wintry tone was back in her voice. He couldn't tell whether she was mocking him or not.

Why, oh why, were women so complicated?

A few strands of dark hair fell over her eyes and she shook them aside. The captain was still dressed in the tight suit, with the emblem of an eye on the front. And what was up with all the bandages? A giant, golden bow was strapped to her back, along with a full quiver of golden arrows. There were assorted weapons at her belt—chain whips and knives.

His eyes drifted back towards the bow. Dangerous, he thought.

"So am I." He decided to go with the safe answer and took a seat next to her.

"Eat up. We're going somewhere." Her eyes were blazing and Zelda pushed a tray of food next to him. He eyed it ravenously, and then the words sank in.

"...We're going somewhere? The whole Alliance?"

"No," she answered swiftly, and took a bite of her food. "Just a few of us, a search party. We're searching for others with the Mark."

"Like how you 'searched' for me?" The words just slipped out of Link's mouth and he shovelled a spoonful of pasta into his mouth.

"Yes. Exactly like that."

It was awkward. The silence was cold and stony, the air suddenly went cold. Link shivered underneath the thickness of the black, leather jacket.

"Where are we going?" It seemed like a sensible question.

"We're going to the Sky region." She stood up, and once again, seemed dangerously intimidating. The giant bow and arrow didn't help. "I'll give you a few minutes to prepare and then we're heading out." Zelda glanced at his sword and added, "Providing you're ready, of course."

"The Sky region?" He cried, but she'd already left, a whirl of bandages, bows, and arrows.

The Sky region was a few days journey from the Hyrule region. What made the captain think that there was something there? And would the travel even be safe?

The other five people seated around him watched intently. Peach was among them. Link suddenly felt cold and uneasy under their unfamiliar gaze.

He looked at his food and realized two things.

One—that he suddenly wasn't very hungry and two—that Zelda still didn't know his name.

* * *

**This was mostly a filler chapter. Next chapter will definitely have more action! Short, I know. **

**How did you like Ganondorf's portrayal? Ganondorf's character is so fun to write...**

**A reviewer asked whether there would be the non-human Smashers and whether they'd be humanized or not- I don't honestly know. That's still something where my decision is wavering.**

**Once again, I have limited Internet access. Please be patient with me, and I'll try to post the next chapter as soon as...I write it.**

**Please review! **


	3. Lost

**Late, I know...**

**Thank you to KatanaMelee for being my...only reviewer LOL.**

**EDITED 2-2-13: Just minor grammatical stuff.  
**

* * *

"It's flawless."

Doctor Hand drew a tiny vial from his pocket, and held it up to the artificial light. It was a sick, green color. Ganondorf felt his insides lurch.

It was just a tiny, green vial, yet it made him feel so uncomfortable.

"This will lead us to power. This is the formula we have perfected." Doctor Hand continued, and a hideous sneer stretched across the folds of his face.

The air stank of death. It was such a beautiful castle, yet many hideous things happened here. Flies were attracted to masses of rotting flesh. Bones sat, untouched in the corner. Eyes stared up to the ceiling, never blinking. Dead eyes.

Ganondorf swallowed. Tapestries were against the stone walls, but that was to mask the blood that refused to come off the stone. Everything was a mask. His eyes drifted towards the chains on the wall, the bloodied chains.

A young woman was chained to a wooden plank. Her eyes were wild, searching for an exit. She looked like a wild animal, and she struggled in vain. The chains bit into her skin, and Ganondorf looked at her scars with disapproval. There were so many of them; painted on her pale arms, marked into her face, burned all over her body.

"Let me go!" she screamed, and thrashed violently. She was nothing now. Now she was their prisoner. A smirk made its way on Ganondorf's face.

"What does it do?" Ganondorf asked. His eyes never left the writhing woman chained in front of him.

"You'll see." The sneer was back on Doctor Hand's face.

Doctor Hand was a brilliant scientist. He messed with genes, and used horrible chemicals to alter life. He had started the epidemic that wiped out over half the population in all the Regions, and he was essential to the plan. But he was a sick, mad scientist. Ganondorf could see the need for death raging behind his eyes.

The doctor took a needle, and the woman's screams only grew louder.

"Please! Let me go!" she pleaded, and tears rolled down her face. It was humiliating. She was begging for her life, as if they would set her free. Beg all you want, girl, he thought darkly, but you will never truly be free

The tip of the needle was filthy. Shivers ran up Ganondorf's spine, as he thought about the rusted tip and the hideous vial full of medicine. Everything truly was evil.

The doctor leaned over her. His breath was horrible, and she choked on the stench.

"This will only hurt a little..." Doctor Hand stabbed the needle into her shoulder with a disturbing viciousness and her shattering scream echoed in the dead room.

Ganondorf couldn't help but smile. It was so dark, so wrong, but it was so beautiful.

He watched the medicine do its magic. Doctor Hand had obviously added something to the previous chemical that started the disease, but what had he added? He watched as her skin grew pale, so sickly pale, almost translucent. He could see the faint outline of bones. Her eyes clouded over, so they were almost red.

The screams turned to hungry howls.

_Is that it? _Ganondorf longed to ask, but he knew better. Doctor Hand was unstable, like a house of cards. Just one blow and he'd break down, right on top of you.

The woman—who was now a monster, a Follower—was furious. She could not feel anything, every shred of humanity had washed away, but the chains restrained her. She snarled like an animal, still thrashing. It was hopeless. The chains would never snap.

The doctor inserted another dose into the snarling creature, who raged at him like a savage storm. Ganondorf raised his eyebrows, and thought once more of the many ivory bones sitting in the corner.

Doctor Hand threw Ganondorf a sword, and he caught it easily. It was rusted near the ends, and it felt flimsy, but it would do the job. He gave the doctor a questionable look.

"Cut her arm."

The creature howled louder. Ganondorf could've drowned in the noise.

He was hesitant at first, but the blade felt so right in his hand. Everything felt so right, he felt so powerful, so strong. Like nobody would ever be able to cut him down. This was what he was born to do.

_Power. _

He swung, feeling the satisfactory feeling of blade ripping through flesh, then bone. The arm hit the ground and blood flew everywhere like rain. The eerie howl refused to stop.

He looked at the woman with disgust. Had she been human before?

Doctor Hand was suddenly laughing, the sound mingling with the howl. It was a twisted mix, and his head spun wildly.

"Do you see it?" Doctor Hand asked. He smiled, showing endless gaps where teeth should have been.

Right before Ganondorf's eyes, the arm began to grow back. First it was bone, and then muscle, wrapping around, until it was masked by a thin layer of skin.

It was powerful.

But it also felt so wrong. His head spun. Ganondorf felt so dizzy, like he was in a nightmare.

He saw the full extent of the vial's power. Just a tiny vial had twisted with life and destroyed all traces of humanity. He looked at the arm that had grown back, and was now struggling against the chains. It looked so...surreal, like his mind was playing tricks on him. Was that just a mask as well?

He looked down. The dead arm he had just cut off was thrashing fervently on the stone floor, as if it had a mind of its own.

* * *

So there they were, standing outside the towering castle. Link shifted on his horse, which nickered uncomfortably. The worn leather saddle felt strange, and he wondered how long it'd been since he'd ridden a horse. Where had they even found the horses in the first place? And how had the horses managed to survive?

He covered his eyes and glimpsed at the castle, hoping he would be able to see some details of it underneath the cloak of darkness. Some other members of the Alliance were seated on horses, and Peach, the nurse, chattered uncontrollably. She seemed so at ease; so comfortable. He could see the faint outline of Zelda in the front, seated on a gigantic stallion.

He sighed.

The Sky region was far from the Hyrule region, and even on horseback, it would take them two days journey. What was Zelda even searching for there? He assumed she was searching for people to recruit, but he doubted there'd be any. The disease had ravaged the regions; picked them clean like meat from bones. There was almost nothing to hold on to. He felt a bitter feeling of regret and lament settling heavily into his heart, and he bit it back.

The horses ahead of him began the trek across the bleak, barren land, and Link thought that if he looked hard enough, he'd be able to see traces of sunlight fading from far away.

* * *

They set camp that night, halfway through the Hyrule region. The Hyrule region was vast and expansive, but still they had ridden. It had been cold, and Link found himself shivering more than once. The thick coat seemed to do little against the endless winter's bite.

They had camped behind a mass of dead trees that hid them from any wandering Followers. There hadn't been any sign of life so far, no Followers, and the stench of death that seemed to linger after them had thinned.

But even so, it was far from normal. It was far from recovery.

Link fingered the mark on his wrist. It was funny how one useless Mark had saved him from the disease. When the disease swept over them, he was safe, all because of a useless Mark. He couldn't help but feel bitterness and anger, but it all faded away and he felt helpless once more.

Mark or no Mark, there was nothing he could do. He looked towards Zelda and the other members, who were gathering dead branches busily and attempting to set a fire, though it was hard in the cold. He heard Zelda swear when a little flame flickered, only to disappear once more.

Despite their attempts to remain friendly, he felt so different. He felt so...useless in comparison. They all knew what they were doing, they were all experienced fighters, and here he was, only alive by pure luck.

Before he knew what was happening, he was up on his feet and walking towards the group, who was crowded around the remains of a failed fire.

Zelda's cold eyes met his, and he thought he saw an emotion flicker across them, but it disappeared just as fast. She turned away from him, and continued furiously with her fire.

"You're Link, right?" A deep, rumbling voice cut through his voice like a knife. Link jolted; startled. A muscular man with dark, blue hair and indifferent eyes outstretched a large hand. Link shook it awkwardly.

"I suppose I am?"

"Hm." The man turned back towards the fire, and Link felt uncomfortable once again. Was he just burdening them? Why had Zelda decided to take him along, anyway?

The severe pain in his hand quickly returned like icy fire and he winced, clutching it to his heart.

"Are you still trying to set the fire?" This question was directed to Zelda. She gave him a strange look.

"I guess?" she sounded confused, and went back to rubbing the flint stones together furiously.

It was hard to create fire in the bitter cold. It had been so long since the sun penetrated the heavy shrouds of darkness, and he still hadn't grown accustomed to the endless winter after three years. After the disease had came, the sun seemed to retreat as well. The sun left them behind, just like his family left him behind.

Endless. That was the word that described everything. It was all endless. The cold; the cycle of the disease and the futile rebellion. They weren't really an Alliance fighting against the Followers anymore than they were rebels. A group of hopeless, hungry rebels who couldn't even set a fire.

"Maybe you should wait a little? You're probably wearing out the stones." Link suggested to the captain.

He saw her fling the stones off into the distance; clearly frustrated. Now they were certainly doomed. How could they keep even a shred of warmth without fire? He looked at the shadowy faces of the other members. They seemed indifferent; like they didn't care she had just thrown away their chances of a fire.

He couldn't understand these people; most of all he couldn't understand Zelda.

Suddenly, Zelda's hands shook and there was a surge of blinding, white light. Sweat was forming on her forehead and arms, and soon there was fire crackling on the dead branches.

_Magic. _

He had heard legends of magic; of people blessed with power from those above. But he dismissed it all as just a legend; he never thought the legend would actually come true.

She took off the bandages wrapped around her hands and warmed her hand on the fire. Everyone else was doing the same, and Link pulled off his heavy leather gloves.

"I thought..." he stammered, and then trailed off.

"That magic didn't exist anymore?" She finished his sentence. The flame only got brighter.

"I thought it was just a legend—I thought that my grandma was crazy," he confessed.

The warmth of the fire felt amazing; it felt so surreal. It had been so long since he'd known any kind of warmth. It felt so far away, like it was all just a dream. The light was inspiring. Link looked around at the faces of the other members. There was Zelda' face; grim. She looked like she was waiting, always waiting...but for what? The blue-haired man's expression was solemn and blank; so empty. This was what the disease had done. It had burned them all out. He felt more burning hatred—what if Zelda was right? What if somebody really had unleashed such a monstrosity upon them?

"When my brother, Sheik, told me the legend, I thought he was crazy too," she laughed; hollowly.

Pieces of the twisted puzzle came together like glass.

Sheik. Zelda. Governor. Castle.

She wasn't just Zelda, fearless captain of the Alliance; she was Zelda, the governor of Hyrule's younger sister.

He should have felt admiration; he should have felt proud. But instead, he only felt anger.

"You're the governor's younger sister?" he said slowly, and rose to his feet. The ground was cold underneath his combat boots. The smell of the fire was suddenly suffocating. It reminded him of burning flesh.

She gave a curt, little nod. She didn't understand, and so many emotions flew across her face at once. The fire danced.

He felt angry; betrayed. She wasn't really the strong captain he thought she was. She was just a rich, spoiled girl playing the role of the hero.

"So you were inside of the castle, with your brother, drinking tea while people were outside _dying_ because of this disease?" No, he wasn't just angry. He was furious.

She had been safe, drinking tea and eating cakes, when his sister was suffering. When no doctor was around to help. When nobody cared. When everybody only cared about the governor on his throne and the prissy girl who was safe and sound; wrapped in her silk dresses.

It was so unfair. It was all unfair.

She, too, rose to her feet.

"What are you getting at?" Zelda demanded. The fire crackled; sang to him. Like the fire could burn away all the regrets; all the death he had seen in this world. In such a ruined world.

"You haven't lost anything!" His temper blew. "You were inside, perfectly safe while your people were dying! While my sister lay rotting on a bed, not even knowing who I was!"

There. There was nothing to take back, nothing to regret now. He couldn't back down. He couldn't run away.

She was stunned. Hurt, even. There were no words to describe the bitter emotion painted on her face. But still, he couldn't regret anything. It was intense. The fire couldn't match the burning, unsatisfied anger in his heart.

"Excuse me?" she stuttered. She was clearly nervous.

_Good. _

"You have never seen any loss in your life," He snarled, and leaned closer to her. For once, he felt like a tower over her. Strong. "And you call yourself captain? We aren't an Alliance anymore than we are a group of rebels lead by a prissy _child_!"

"Don't you dare say that I have never seen any loss in my life." Her voice was quiet and angry. She approached him like a prowling cat. "Do you think any little girl wants to see her friends and maids slowly rot away? Do you think any little girl wants to live their life, in a tower, hiding? Scared? Do you think any little girl wants to see their brother rot away like a corpse?"

Her voice was louder now; quavering with emotion.

"Do you think any little girl wants to kill their brother after he tries to eat them alive? _Do you_?" she laughed; that shaky, unstable laugh. "He wasn't my brother by that point. He was a monster. A beast."

He was silent, listening. A hand flew to her eyes as she swiped at her face, trying to wipe away angry, hot tears.

"So don't you dare say that I have never lost anything to this disease." She stood taller; looked him dead in the eye. "We may just be a group of rebels. But one thing is for certain—every single one of us has lost something to this disease. And that's why we fight. We don't fight because we want to go back to the tea-sipping days, holed up in our castles. We fight because we can."

Another blue haired man, Marth, pulled off the jewelled tiara that sat on his head and looked down. Marth spoke; quietly.

"I lost my sister to the disease as well. She wasted away, and by the time anybody cared, she was just a hunk of dead flesh. This is all I have left of her." Marth raised the tiara.

Zelda, the captain, looked Link in the eye again. He could see now that tears were rolling down her face. She was trying to wipe them away, but they were falling faster than she could wipe them.

And just like that, she walked swiftly off into the distance, still wiping away at the tears.

She didn't look like the captain then. She didn't look brave. She didn't look fearless; strong. She looked like the little girl in the story she had just told Link; afraid and angry.

Lost, in a ruined world.

* * *

**Please review!**


	4. Like Shattered Glass

**Short chapter, but the next one **_**will **_**be longer. Thanks to everyone for sticking with me, and enjoy the fourth chapter of **_**Run**_**! **

**Edited (grammar stuff and shiznets) as of 2-2-13. **

* * *

There was nothing but hurt; blinding, horrible, devastating hurt as she stumbled through the snow-covered ground. Well, she assumed it was snow, but it could have just as easily been blood.

She wiped at away at her tears with her frozen hands. They weren't even _sad _tears, they were angry. Angry at Link, for hurting her like that. Angry at herself for being a failure. And angry at the words for being the harsh truth.

She wasn't really just a girl who wanted to play hero. She wanted to make a difference. No, she wanted more than a difference. She wanted _revenge. _She could feel it now—bitter in her mouth. She would wreck havoc on who tore her life apart, piece by piece.

Because she wasn't just Zelda; captain of the Alliance. She was Zelda; Sheik's little sister, the rightful governess of the Hyrule region. And she would get Hyrule back, by the time everything was over. She swore it on her brother's corpse.

But it seemed so far away, and suddenly her tiny bubble of defiance broke. It was so paper-thin. Everything was so paper-thin; crumbling away, just like her life had crumbled away.

No, now was no time to be weak. She couldn't afford to be weak. She was only sixteen; and yet there had been death. So much death; the stench of it seemed to follow after her. It was something she couldn't wash off.

So much of it, in heaps, the dead lay in piles in the streets. The mark on her hand glowed in the darkness; shimmering gold.

Angry, she forced herself to use her power. The golden mark got brighter, and there was a burst of fire. The magic did little to soothe her wrath.

There was anger. So much of it, and surprisingly, _hurt. _

...Why had his words hurt her in the first place? Why did she let them?

It just wasn't fair. One epidemic had taken its toll on them. One epidemic had ripped the world apart and buried them with the pieces. One epidemic was all she had to end to die happy.

She had to do it. For Sheik; for her friends, for the world.

But how? She was just a 'little girl wanting to play Hero'. Paper-thin.

No, she wasn't paper-thin. She was like glass.

* * *

"Now you've done it." Samus, a cool-tempered bounty hunter, shot Link a glare. It wasn't a glare of anger, but more one of annoyance. The other two, Marth and Peach, shook their hands and stared at the fire with solemn faces. The dancing flame gave them a look of determination, and Link wondered if it was only the fire.

Did he feel guilty? Maybe. But he was so angry—so angry at everything that had happened. A nagging voice in his head told him that it wasn't Zelda's fault. The same nagging voice told him to join Zelda, and that would be how he got rid of the anger.

But there was still so much of it, boiling up like a volcano.

"What do you expect me to do?" Link snapped at Samus, after regaining his composure. They all treated him like a baby; a newbie. It was infuriating.

Still, the fire crackled.

Samus glowered at him; a glare so hot it felt icy.

"That's up to you to find up." Marth said, and it came out more like a sigh. They all looked at Link intently. He couldn't stand their waiting stares, and hauled himself onto his feet, groaning.

_You and your big mouth. _

He looked at Peach desperately for assurance, but she, too, had the same expectant stare.

And he squinted against the never-ending winter cold, and saw the faint outline of Zelda's figure. She looked like a glass flower, rising among the weeds.

Beautiful, but she was still glass. And glass was easily shattered.

Fastening his combat boots, and pulling the coat tighter around himself, Link walked after her, wondering if his footsteps made footprints on the surely bloodied snow.

* * *

"Isn't it amazing?" Doctor Hand was spewing nonsense like a teapot to Tabuu. Doctor Hand was obviously interested in his 'beautiful creation', a modification to the first disease.

Tabuu admitted that Doctor Hand was a genius. He was a mad genius though, and helped them start the disease. With that disease, the world was his, a tiny, glass ball he could easily squeeze and shatter. And now, there was an improvement. Nothing could rise up against him. Not even the stupid girl and her stupid Alliance.

"They're going to be _invincible. _Inhuman. Marvellous."

That was all Doctor Hand needed to say and Tabuu sprung to his feet. Invincible. Inhuman. Marvellous. His eyes drifted towards Ganondorf, who was stiff in his heavy armour.

Ganondorf appeared to be bored, and Tabuu couldn't read the emotion behind the giant Gerudo's golden eyes. That was a bad sign. He needed to know. He needed to reign over them; he needed to control them like horses.

For he was their Lord.

Ganondorf's golden mark glowed faintly, a reminder of why he was so vital to Tabuu's plan. The golden mark, the Triforce, provided him with endless power.

Doctor Hand was still yammering about his inhuman new disease that was, undoubtedly, just a mixture of chemicals and blood.

"If you cut off their arm it grows back. We can defeat the rebellion. Smash it."

_That _caught Tabuu's attention. Doctor Hand's hair was wild; frenzied, spouting out of his head like dead twigs. There was nothing but a disgusting stub wrapped in stained bandages where Doctor Hand's arm should have.

Of course Doctor Hand was fascinated with his _perfect _disease.

Tabuu rose. His legs felt stiff after long moments of no movement, and he strolled casually up to Ganondorf, his general.

"I hear the lady of the Sky region is still alive..." Tabuu started, slowly and deliberately. "Take care of her."

Ganondorf bowed—respectfully, but fake, as Tabuu noticed.

"Make sure there are no survivors. Wipe them out."

Tabuu's voice was as cold and empty as the bones sitting in the corner of the throne room.

* * *

**I am really sorry for the shortness of this chapter. The next one will be longer—and more action packed!**

**Please review! **


	5. According To Plan

**I know I said this would be action-packed, but for pacing reasons I had to split this chapter into two.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and a big fat thank you to prien12 for favouriting! :D **

**Edited as of 2-2-13.**

* * *

The Followers were hungry.

No, they weren't hungry for food. If there were hungry, they would have lunged and taken a bite out of Ganondorf's flesh. But he would have fended them off. Easily, oh, so easily.

They were hungry for blood-shed. All these Followers—who had once been people—had been injected with Doctor Hand's new disease. Ganondorf thought they were like weeds. Pesky weeds; killing all the pretty flowers. They howled, and Ganondorf hissed at them. They shut their mouths and regarded him with those soulless red eyes.

So they still understood _some _English.

The army of ravaged blood-thirsty zombies and a power-hungry general were making their way through the Sky region.

The ruler of the Sky region—he believed it was Palutena—never really liked Tabuu. The foolish woman insisted on peace. Tabuu's plan _was _for peace. Didn't Palutena see that?

In an ironic, twisted way, Tabuu wanted peace. And Tabuu had determined peace was only possible through world domination. Tabuu didn't only want peace—he was bent on some stupid legend about world peace and golden markings.

Ganondorf rubbed the Triforce on his hand awkwardly. The Triforce of Power, he believed. Power. Of course it made sense.

With a sword in his hands, he felt so powerful. He didn't feel like Tabuu's pet dog. He felt like somebody worthy of slicing off Palutena's head.

And that he would do.

He really didn't have any idea where Palutena and her little troop would be hiding. But the Follower's had an excellent sense of smell, so that wasn't really his concern. His concern was the girl.

He didn't know why, but the girl was like a tiny needle pricking him slowly and deliberately. A needle, just pinpointing you, was definitely harmless. But if it keeps poking, it will draw blood. And more and more and more blood each time.

He wanted to squash the girl like a bug. Feed her to his weeds. There was no sense in keeping her alive, after all, her brother was dead too. Sheik, was it? Sheik was the young governor of the Hyrule region.

He, too, fell to the disease. Ganondorf actually wasn't sure if it killed him or if it turned him into a Follower.

But the point was that they had killed Sheik. Sheik was believed to have the Triforce of Wisdom, and so they had killed him.

But why didn't he feel the link? He didn't feel that click of another powerful source nearby. And, there was rumoured to be another Triforce. Courage, he had heard.

But for all Ganondorf knew, Courage was lying dead in a pit. Tabuu _had _said that he would take care of Courage.

Ganondorf had no idea how, but he had faith in his lord. Limited faith, but it was faith nonetheless. It would take them at least a few hours to find lady Palutena's camp, but they'd find it nonetheless.

The Followers shouted to the dark sky and so Ganondorf marched them on.

* * *

Doctor Hand threw himself against the door. It slammed against the concrete, stony walls. The sound echoed. It was noise—delicious noise.

Crazed, he stared outside the glass window. Ganondorf—that cursed general—was finally gone with his army.

The army that consisted of Doctor Hand's creatures. His creations. His dreams. His life.

In a disgustingly sick way, he thought of them as his children. _He _had revived them when all else was dying. _He _had made sure that they would be able to live. _He _made sure of everything.

And yet, they were being used as toy soldiers. It enraged him.

But Lord Tabuu—he inwardly scoffed at the notion of following 'Lord' Tabuu—refused to give him anymore. They all just saw him as a mad scientist.

Well, he would prove them wrong.

Madly, he dashed towards his tables. The tables were a haphazard mess of beakers, tubes, and fiercely glowing liquid. He'd collected samples of blood from the Followers and had been messing around with it. He'd learned a new formula. You could now inject the disease only to a part of your body and it would only affect that part. He was shaking with happiness, joy, and the excitement of creation.

Another tube was lying on the corner of the table. He peered at it. It was something he had created yesterday and had tested on another Follower, then killed the human.

Wait.

The Follower became human again. Follower. Human. Antidote. Creation.

The antidote.

Tabuu would be pleased.

Except he didn't want to live only please to Tabuu.

Tabuu promised him life—a life where he could devote himself completely to this science. Tabuu had promised him an arm. Yet there was still only an angry, bloodied stub.

And then an odd idea crossed his mind.

_If the modified disease helps Followers grow their arms back..._

With a shaking, frenzied hand, he snatched a needle and swallowed. The fluid was swimming around like ocean water.

He didn't need Tabuu to get his arm back. He'd get it himself.

Clenching his eyes tightly, he pressed the needle into his shoulder.

* * *

"Are you alright?" Link stumbled after Zelda awkwardly. He hated this. He hated being so awkward. He hated causing it in the first place. He hated everything. Surely, she didn't need his comfort?

She didn't answer. Of course she didn't. Link couldn't see her features clearly, but he could almost hear the tension, loud and clear. It was a sound he knew all too well.

Silence, except for the drumming of his heart. Was she so hurt that she wouldn't answer? Link sighed inwardly. It was, after all, her choice. The grass was dry and dead underneath his heavy boots and the air felt thick with ruination. He could barely see anything; it was all covered in the blanket of the night sky. The eternal night sky.

"Yeah." Her voice sounded small—so very small, and once again, he could see her as the small thirteen-year old girl staggering backwards. It was like he had opened wounds; angry wounds that had been closed for so long.

* * *

_Zelda looked out the window. She wondered where the sun had gone—it had disappeared behind the heavy clouds days ago; never to rise again. She wasn't going to admit it to Sheik, but she was frightened of the dark. The lights in the castle hadn't been working, either._

_She told herself it was natural. Sheik was twenty-one, and she, thirteen. I have reason, she told herself fiercely._

_Come to think of Sheik, he hadn't been seeing her lately. She saw him fling himself into his room. She heard the horrible sound of a wooden door slamming with the ferocity of a monster. She smelled it—the smell of something going awry._

_But what was it? She squinted, wondering if she could see the sun if she tried hard enough. Her hand was itching again. It was always itching._

_She heard a door being thrown open. It was Sheik's door, she reasoned. Zelda's heart thudded in her chest, like a boulder throwing itself against her. Thud._

_It was just Sheik. Why was she so scared? Thud._

_Thud._

_She trembled, and snatched her gigantic golden bow and quiver, just in case. Quietly, she peered around the corner of her room. Where was he? Sure enough, the door of his room was open. No, it wasn't open. It was thrown aside like a toy._

_Thud._

_Suddenly, she felt small. Oh, so small, so weak, so helpless. Weak little Zelda. She felt like a mouse, hiding from a cat. The cat would snatch out and eat her alive. She felt herself hyperventilating. Fear was devouring her._

_Thud._

_It just wouldn't stop._

_Thud._

_She heard footsteps. Creeping footsteps, barely lingering on the stairs._

_Thud._

_She wanted to scream._

"_Sheik?" She heard herself ask. Her voice shook like swaying blades of grass. Something tickled her nose; a foul stench._

_It smelled like death. She assured herself that it was just rotten food—but from where?_

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

_Somebody's hand flew to her shoulder reassuringly. She exhaled. It was Sheik. Sheik's grip tightened; treacherously, dangerously._

_There was a roar, a frightening, sickening roar in her face. The lights flickered. On and off. On and off._

_Thud. Thud. Thud. _

_She could see it now; the scenery painted before her in macabre colours. Her friends and servants were on the ground. They looked liked dolls; puppets. Various body parts were thrown around. Their eyes were faced towards the sky. That was the smell. Flesh. Death. All around._

_The creature gripping her was in Sheik's clothing, but it wasn't him. She refused to believe that. The creature was pale; sickly pale, with sick holes in the flesh. Some of the white skin was burning to the bone. And the eyes—Sheik always had red eyes—but these were a different red. Not even the bright, calming red, but a dead, hungry read. So hungry. She saw a glimpse of his teeth, long and sharp._

_Had he done this? Her breathing was out of control. This creature—this monster, was not her brother. This monster had killed her servants. This monster had done this._

_Not her brother. But her brother _was _this monster. They were the same. They were one._

_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thu—_

_Snarling, he swiped her with impossibly sharp, bloodied claws. He was too quick. She couldn't jump back, and it was a horrible pain, across her back. _

_A scream. A shattering, loud, lost scream. Her scream._

_She staggered backwards, blinded, and grabbed her bow without knowing what she was doing. Still, blindly, she fired. The arrow flashed golden and sailed across the room. _

_The monster approached her, still, and she saw the golden arrow embedded in his shoulder. She saw the claws—covered with rusting blood and new blood. Her blood._

_She could feel the pain again, ripe on her back. The scarlet liquid was surely soaking her clothes. He came closer. She could feel more pain. More death._

_Except she didn't want to die. She was scared._

_Screaming, she snapped her eyes shut and felt an odd surge of power. There was a burst of fire, hungry, and it engulfed him before her eyes. Her hand was hurting now, burning with the fire. There were flashes of gold on her hand, but she didn't care anymore._

_Sheik—or what once used to be Sheik—howled once. Only once. She heard the sound of a body hitting the floor limply and she knew it was over._

_And then she sank to her knees and began to laugh, for there were no more tears left to cry._

_THUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD THUD—_

* * *

Zelda's memories came flooding back to him like a storm, all at once. They were horrible—devastating memories. The raw emotion was far more powerful than the plain words. He didn't need to know why he felt her memories. He didn't even ask.

"I'm sorry." All he said were two words, and that was all that was needed. Two words, little more than the truth. He could almost see the angry scars stretched on her back, still there, three horrid years later.

He felt something then. It was an odd, electric sensation. Link didn't know whether it was admiration, respect, or something...else.

He brushed it aside.

"I know," she answered simply. Her voice was low, and it almost sounded broken. Despite the lack of light, he saw her hands twisted together; fidgeting.

And then suddenly, she broke the moment.

"We should start heading back," she said abruptly, and straightened. "We're wasting time."

He hurried to keep up with her pace.

"Does that mean all is forgiven?"

Zelda didn't answer him. She didn't need to.

* * *

After an hour or so, the Alliance was in the Sky region. The once bustling capital city, Skyworld, was empty.

Broken streetlights dangled like toys from cracked poles, glowering at the group with shattered light.

Unlike Castle Town, the capital of the Hyrule region, there were no corpses littering the streets. In Castle Town, the corpses were piled higher and higher, everywhere. No matter where you went, you couldn't escape the dead gaze.

Zelda shivered underneath her Sheikah gear and tightened her cowl. She was supposed to look like Sheik—or what Sheik used to look like. Nobody had to know that she was a girl, unless they were part of the Alliance. It was only her business. She could feel the scratches, once again, on her back.

It was empty, so empty; and she decided that the cold emptiness was more frightening than the streets full of bodies.

Shops that had once been busy were picked clean like corpses. It seemed another group of survivors—or an army of Followers lead by Tabuu—had scavenged for supplies. Broken glass lay everywhere as evidence.

But that's what they were doing. They were scavenging for survivors. She squinted, and tried to listen for any sound of life.

A nearby streetlight, dangling like a toy, dropped down and smashed against the ground, breaking into a million pieces.

It was the absolute picture of devastation.

"Where is everyone?" Samus, the fierce bounty huntress, stepped forward and pulled out her gun. The gun also had a whip attached, with danced through the air like a snake.

"I don't know, "she answered said, and that was the truth.

The emptiness; the eerie silence, the feeling of something about to jump out at you was overwhelming.

It felt too familiar. It felt like a distant memory; that time with Sheik...

_THUDTHUDTHUD—_

It was Tabuu's fault. It was all Tabuu's fault. The familiar feeling of revenge settled in her stomach and it bloomed like fire, flaring brighter than the fake streetlights.

Of course there were survivors. Lady Palutena was somebody who refused to give up. She also had a strong, powerful army, though Zelda did not doubt they were wiped out by the disease.

But she could only hope.

Shakily, she forced herself to sound confident.

"If there are survivors here, where would they hide—"

Her sentence was cut off by a frenzy of screams and the familiar sound of glass shattering.

"_Run_!"

They ran through the empty streets, searching wildly for the survivors, if there were any.

* * *

Ganondorf raised his shield as a glowing, blue arrow bounced off of it harmlessly. He smirked, but secretly felt somewhat disgruntled. It was the stupid arrows. He watched another Follower get shot down by a blue arrow.

But the truth of the matter was that no matter how many arrows Palutena's general shot, there were more Followers. He enjoyed watching their stricken faces as arms and legs grew back.

A lucky survivor, without the Mark, but miraculously still alive, ran at him and he sliced the survivor cleanly. It was a waste of his time, really. They were going to win.

The Followers had easily found Palutena's camp, just as he had predicted. He swung his sword in time to a battle cry.

They were like shadow-walkers, striking under the night sky.

"Go forward! Don't hold back!" he roared at the army of Followers, who obeyed his command like trained lapdogs. They rampaged forward, tearing through Palutena's pitiful army with their bare teeth.

Now, if only he could find Palutena. The source of all this. He bashed somebody over with his shield and watched a line of armed soldiers topple over like dominos.

Palutena's troops were demolished; obliterated, just like her region. There was only a small group left—Palutena, her winged general, three other soldiers, a girl, and...two small boys?

Ganondorf could've laughed. Was she so desperate that she had to recruit two small boys?

It didn't matter. The boys were still soldiers. They would still be cut down. He smirked. It was too easy; everything was going according to plan.

Palutena's general shot another arrow and a Follower collapsed. Ganondorf hissed. It was time to take matters into his own hands. Although Doctor Hand—the insane doctor—had said the modified disease would make them invincible, if they were hit in the heart, they would die. Ganondorf couldn't help but take note of the general's aim.

Victory was close. He liked the feeling of smashing Palutena's army. Of course, she had lost.

Everything was going according to plan.

Everything was perfect.

Everything was flawless.

Until a lone, golden arrow sailed through the air and his entire plan fell apart.

They had come.

* * *

**Please review!**


	6. The Scarlet Staining His Cloak

**Deadline's coming! I can finish it in time, I know I can, I can finish it—**

**I am no action writer, so do not judge me if this chapter is pretty crappy... **

**Again, edited 2-2-13. BLARGH. **

* * *

_Desert man watches from afar  
The desert man is like a painting; like tapestry; like war  
The shiny armour like moonlight  
The red hair like fire  
The petty lies like masks  
The dancing knives like snakes  
The smell of death like a fog  
The liquid crimson on the palace floor like a blanket  
The scarlet staining his cloak like a sin  
The golden eyes like those of a lion  
The grin like that of a madman  
The eyes; the dead eyes  
The eyes forever staring up, forever whispering:  
King of the Desert, drunk with power..._

* * *

It was overwhelming.

Zelda thought it was like she was watching a movie—when movies still existed—it was like she wasn't a part of it. It was like she was just a spectator from far up in the safety of the hills, watching, recording. It was like the whole, bloody, messy war was just a scene replaying on and on for her entertainment.

On and on. On and on.

And then something leapt towards her, red eyes and rotting flesh, and she fired an arrow. Her heart pounded in her chest heavily, like a waterfall.

On and on. On and on.

She squinted, and shielded her eyes. She had to find somebody, anybody, the root of this—surely, this mass of creatures had a leader? Perhaps a general?

But her main concern was Palutena.

Palutena's general seemed to be doing fairly well, and Zelda felt her insides lurch upon noticing he was just a young boy, perhaps fourteen or fifteen. His matted, brown hair stuck to his sweaty forehead as blue arrows rained down endlessly from his bow. Another Follower fell down beside her, a blue arrow embedded in his neck. The Follower fell like a useless domino.

Link was doing fine; he was cutting the Followers down like whirling fan blades. He was screaming savagely; blood was already dancing on his clothes. Zelda thought he was like an angry toy soldier; fuelled by revenge.

And then everything happened so fast; like a movie sped up by an impatient viewer.

She remembered seeing Link, cutting with skill. She remembered the Followers falling, dying, losing. She remembered a faint feeling of regret of so many lives wasted. She remembered a feeling, defying the regret. She thought it was called triumph. She remembered darting towards something; trying to reach out...

Then she saw a man, a tall man, approaching Link. Link didn't notice; he was too drawn in the world of war. The tall stranger was a gigantic man; golden eyes, flaming hair, silver swords covered in dried crimson.

(_THE RED HAIR LIKE FIRE—)_

No. A scream, in the back of her mind, bodies littered everywhere, a child, five-year old Zelda trying to hide...

She saw the man getting closer, she could almost feel his want, the itching of flesh, the itching for death...

(_THE DANCING KINVES LIKE SNAKES—)_

Death, so much death, her father on the ground with frozen eyes. She didn't want that to happen. Not to Link. Not to anybody.

Zelda felt herself sprinting, she felt her legs moving, she felt her breath getting caught in her throat. She felt the bewildering feeling of her throat being burned, slowly, steadily.

But she didn't care. The man was getting closer. She saw the scenes, replaying on and on and over and over...

(_THE EYES, THE DEAD EYES—)_

No, she was screaming, but nobody seemed to care. Nobody seemed to hear. No, she wouldn't let it happen. She wouldn't fail again.

She saw the knives swinging forward, she could almost hear the impact of silver through Link's flesh. She could almost hear, again, the screams, mingled with her own.

(_THE SCARLET STAINING HIS CLOAK LIKE A SIN_—)

Her legs weren't fast enough. She tore across the dead grass as fast as she could. She couldn't keep up with her legs, like her heart was elsewhere. Breath was a gift, she couldn't breathe, it wasn't coming, she was going to die, _Link was going to die—_

The man, the desert man, was laughing, that stupid laugh. That laugh, the maniacal sound that haunted her for years—

But it didn't happen.

The blade didn't cut Link.

Nothing happened again.

No replay.

And she found herself holding her golden bow in the air. The weight of the desert man's knives against her bow was overwhelming. Her bow was the only thing keeping it from ripping through Link.

Link was frozen and her bow was in the air and her eyes met the golden pools of anger and everything was cold and and and—

Silence. Deafening silence; silence so loud it hurt her ears. She wondered if they could hear her heart; eager to leap out of her chest.

The golden eyes were angry; amused, maybe. But more than anything, they were furious. The general, the flame-haired general with the scarlet cloak, was still like a marble statue. And then she remembered his name, she remembered the golden mark of Power, she remembered the cloak bathed in scarlet. Ganondorf. General of the dead. The man—who was probably part of this wicked scheme. The man who had murdered her father—and she suspected—the man who infected her brother.

She narrowed her eyes and deepened her voice; trying her best to sound like Sheik. In a situation like this, Sheik wouldn't reminisce.

"Run as fast as you can." Her voice was deep; cold, like the frozen world around them.

Ganondorf's golden eyes narrowed into furious golden slits, as he raised the knives. He knew. He knew his army was defeated. Followers, everywhere, everywhere she could see, were dead. They had lost.

He was like a caged lion, now.

And so he sheathed his knives, glaring at her with hatred so intense she felt the heat. Turning, he staggered backwards, and laughed.

"I won't forget this."

He whirled around, and the scarlet-stained cloak danced like a cage bird as he fled, shamed.

Zelda felt a feeling, something deep. She couldn't quite understand what it was—it was a mix of many things. It was a feeling of bitterness; bitter triumph.

Link shattered the moment.

One minute, he was yelling at her.

"Watch out!"

The second minute, there was a searing pain in her calf. Hissing with pain and fury, she fired an arrow and the Follower who had latched onto her leg fell still.

There were bloody teeth marks were the Follower had bit her. But she'd seen worse; oh, far worse.

"Are you alright?" Link's eyes widened; he didn't seem to understand anything. Zelda thought he looked like a puppy, and almost laughed at loud, no matter how inappropriate the timing was. She smiled under the cowl and dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand.

"I'm fine. Palutena—rather, Lady Palutena, is the main concern." She brushed aside his concern and spotted Palutena's winged general from up on a hill and tore across the field, gesturing the other members she had brought along to follow.

* * *

When she reached the hill, Zelda thought about her stupid thoughts and stupid hopes and stupid dreams. She thought of victory—of triumph—when they had beaten the army. When they were allowed one shred of hope—only to have it stomped out, like flame.

But looking here, where the masks all fell apart, it was clear that victory was far from her grasp.

Palutena's ragged group of protectors only consisted of the winged general, the two young boys, and a girl. Zelda's eyes met the girl's eyes, and she immediately decided that she disliked her.

The general's eyes—the color of a washed-out sky—pleaded with her.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" he was just a boy; just a boy, he was too young, he was far too young—

"I'm sorry." She didn't answer his question, not directly, yet she spoke the truth.

Palutena lay on the ground, jagged gashes on her sides, staining her clothes. Her green hair was a mess, tangled, streaked with dirt and scarlet. Her eyes, a faded blue, met the general's and he sank to his knees, grasping her hand.

Zelda was a fool. Had she really thought that victory was theirs? The group of the Alliance warriors—she didn't take all of them—where crowded around Palutena. Marth, Samus, Ike, Peach, and Link all regarded the scene with solemn faces.

She knew; they all knew that Palutena was lost. But she grasped the boy's glimmer of hope and showed it to Peach.

"Can we do anything?" she asked Peach, who knelt beside the lady. Peach's face told the answer. Zelda had to look away—she didn't want to see the boy's face, not the face of a broken bird.

"Can't you heal her? With your magic?" Link offered an alternate suggestion. Zelda shivered; though she didn't know why. They expected her to be a miracle worker—because of a talent she never asked for. They expected her to do something she could not.

"Our best chance is to use herbs and medicine." Zelda tore her gaze from the jagged gashes.

The boy, the young general, looked as if he was about to burst into tears.

"Are you sure you can't do anything? She's like a sister to me!" He was begging; pleading. This boy would willingly throw his life up for the woman he loved like a sister, Zelda realized.

"If we had a winter herb..." The girl, the girl Zelda disliked, tried to speak. Zelda—though she couldn't identify why—felt irritated, agitated. No, more than that. She felt furious. She whirled and stared at the girl with a fiery gaze.

"Do any of us _look _like we have any winter herbs on us?" she snapped, and regretted her words after they were spoken. The girl shrank away under Zelda's withering gaze.

Palutena spoke, softly, and broke the tension between them.

"Let go," she whispered. Her voice was fading, like a wilting rose drifting on the wind.

Zelda didn't need to see it. She didn't need to see any more of this. She turned away, closing her eyes tightly, clenching her fists together so tight the skin paled. The angry, lost cry of the general told her what had happened.

She looked up, and Link uttered an inaudible prayer under his breath, staring up at the black sky.

* * *

After entering the hideout of the Alliance, after the long trek back to Hyrule, there they were. The general (Link found out his name was Pit) was silent. His expression was hollow, like he was there but his soul was not. His soul, Link realized, was still back with Palutena's body in the Sky region.

Link liked the boy—he was undoubtedly brave, and seemed like a younger brother. He looked at the other three. The girl was collapsed on one of the seats, her crossbow tucked under her arm. The two little boys were eating. Link felt that feeling—that empty, weird feeling, of a time that used to—and never would again—exist.

But that wasn't the only reason he felt the emptiness. Zelda, he realized, was missing. She probably hid away in her room, stressed after everything. Link was confused, really. He didn't understand Zelda. Why did she save him, a second time? He truly didn't know.

The main reason was that he was nothing more than a puppet in her precious Alliance, but he forced himself to believe that he was more than that.

The girl sleeping on the seat stirred, and gripped her crossbow, murmuring inaudible words.

He saw a flash of a long cape and blue hair, and called out to Marth.

"Marth!"

The Altean gave a little nod. Whether it was a friendly nod or simply a nod to acknowledge his presence, Link didn't know.

"Do you know where Peach is?" Link hauled himself to his feet. It felt weird to stand again.

"She's treating Zelda's leg. You know, the bite and all."

"I see."

Marth left. Link sighed.

* * *

**Short, but the story is coming to an end soon. Expect and update tomorrow or perhaps some time today!**


	7. Only So Much Someone Can Take

**I know I said that I would have an OC (believe me, I loathe using OCs, only because apparently Nintendo is sexist in SSB :P) but due to the lack of females in SSBB and the contest rules, I'm going to have to bring in a character from the LOZ fandom. **

**No, I am **not **character bashing. The girl I am using is actually one of my ****FAVORITE ****characters alongside Zelda and Link. If anybody says I am character bashing I'm going to—**

**Bit by the editing bug as of 2-2-13. ohbby.**

* * *

_Darkness. Only darkness. Ganondorf thought it was funny—the endless darkness, the feeling of simply...not being. It made him feel like he was floating somewhere, sometime, before all of this happened, before—_

"_Failed. You failed." She spat, venom spilling from her voice like blood. The darkness faded away. He wasn't floating; he was on his knees, kneeling. The ground was cold underneath his bleeding knee, it smelled like broken promises. No, he was wrong. The darkness hadn't faded. It was still there; still in his mind, the dark feeling of failure, of shame..._

_How could he have been beaten? His army was invincible. They had Palutena. Until that blasted Alliance—_

_But he had failed and that was the truth. He wanted to say something—anything—that would dim the feeling of failure. He wanted to say something that would make him feel as if he hadn't lost. He wanted to...impress her._

_But he couldn't. Of course he couldn't. No brilliance, just the truth. The darkness was back, flurrying in his mind._

"_I have." That was all he could say. The woman regarded her with her red eyes. She was, indeed, the picture of power, or at least what he imagined power to be like. He was Tabuu's general, yet he was hers. He belonged to this woman._

_He belonged to power._

"_Well, then," she said slowly, "don't do it next time." Her next words came out like knives; sharp. But he wasn't bleeding, was he? Ganondorf felt faint, almost dizzy. The world before him spun, the woman multiplied, and then he shook himself out of it._

_After all, everything he was doing—_

—_was just for her. For power. For the things that were most important for him._

_Her mane of scarlet hair fell over her shoulders. Those eyes—the red eyes. They seemed so deep, so overwhelming, yet he knew they were empty. Ah, only emptiness. _

_The woman hissed, and threw her arms in the air. Golden chains danced around her neck._

"_But how could you have failed?" she shrieked, but her tone seemed distant, and it appeared to him that she was only speaking to herself. _

_Then she lashed out._

"_I gave you power." She rose from her throne. The look in her eyes—the poisonous emptiness—told him of what was to come. "I gave you my mark! The Triforce of Power! And yet you lose!"_

_Her voice had not increased in volume. It got lower, and lower, until it was little more than a harsh whisper._

_He shivered, and swayed on the cold floor. Ganondorf had to press his armoured hands on the ground to regain his stability. The scarlet-stained cloak pooled around him like a pretty pool of blood._

"_You have power from a Divine," she hissed, seething, "and yet you still lose!"_

_Her voice was still that harsh, uncaring tone._

_He didn't like this feeling, the feeling of being a failure. He wanted an excuse; anything. And then he remembered the boy. _

_The boy with the golden hair and the stormy eyes, the boy with the strange sword. That boy had an aura he'd almost never felt before—something powerful. He was certain it was Courage._

_He had the boy. He almost had Courage. It was almost his. _

_And then it came._

_He swore it was a mirage, an illusion, like the dead had come back alive for its revenge._

_It, the governor with the blue suit and the emblem of a red eye. The governor with the gigantic golden boy and the eyes, the eyes that looked so cold and so empty. _

_The governor; he could sense the power emanating from him. He could feel Wisdom, it was so close. And then he was shamed. And then his army fell apart._

_And then, the feeling of failure, the treacherous darkness, sank in._

_But he thought he had killed the governor. The governor was not Marked, and so Ganondorf infected him. Poison gas. Yet the governor was still there._

_Unless—_

"_Promise me." Her angry words shook him out of his flashbacks and Ganondorf shuddered. "Promise me you'll win. Promise me, in the name of Din! In my name!" Her voice was a quivering, angry whisper. She was looking him dead in the eye. Her eyes, the color of dancing flame, clashed with his gold._

_He was startled. Din rarely used her real name; he knew she preferred not to. But she was Power. Din, the Divine Goddess of flame and power. The Goddess who had given him Power._

"_Din, I promise you that I will win." Ganondorf said slowly. Her gaze was intense, the fire in her eyes burning too bright for him. With that fire, she would burn everything down._

_Everything._

_He could see the flames now, lapping at his cloak. Hunger._

_In a movement as quick as the dancing flame, Din leapt towards him like a tigress. He could move, for the Goddess held him back easily. She pulled back his armour, exposing his shoulder and pressed her palm against it. The contact was searing; burning, like fire. He realized he was being branded. _

_She leapt backwards and in yet another fiery dance, was back on the throne. The searing pain was still there, stinging. He looked at it. The Mark of Din. She had chosen him. _

_She straightened, satisfied. The fire leapt._

"_My sisters are interfering," she mused, and he realized it was directed at him. The fire seemed to burn brighter, and Ganondorf could see the destruction. "Nayru has chosen her child, and so has Farore. Wisdom and Courage are coming. They wish to stop me." Her eyes met his again._

_Ganondorf could feel the brand in his shoulder. It seemed to imprint itself on his shoulder, on his mind, and then into his empty soul._

"_My lady. Din." He said her name as an oath; a promise._

* * *

"Hello, Ganondorf." Ganondorf had been summoned to Lord Tabuu's throne room, and that usually wasn't a good sign. Ganondorf immediately went to one knee, but Tabuu raised a hand to stop him.

Tabuu's unnaturally pleasant disposition was frightening.

"I heard you failed," the lord continued. His voice was still quiet and simple. It reminded Ganondorf of a volcano, ready to erupt. "And how so? How could my general have failed?"

Ganondorf struggled for an excuse.

"The boy," he stammered, "the Sheikah boy. The Governor, he came!"

Tabuu raised an eyebrow.

"But you said you took care of him—"

"And there was another boy, the Hero. I swear he was Courage, and I almost had him!" Ganondorf, behind his anger, was wondering about Sheik. He killed Sheik, or at least, technically did. He made sure of that.

So how, why, was the boy still alive?

"Ganondorf." Tabuu's voice had lowered to a chilling, frozen tone. Like a mask. "Is there a reason why my general is lying to me?"

Ganondorf's voice was suddenly caught in his throat. His throat felt dry, scratchy. He felt light-headed. He felt the pain—the brand still imprinted in his shoulder.

"Courage and Widom were right there." Ganondorf blurted. "The Hero and the Sheikah boy—"

"You killed him." Tabuu bellowed, rising from his throne. He was referring to Sheik. "And you said, by killing him, we already had Wisdom."

"Then how was he still alive?" Ganondorf didn't like to argue, especially with Tabuu. The only thing he disliked more than that was losing anything—including an argument.

Tabuu thought for a moment, staring at the cold, empty wall behind them.

"The girl," he said at last, almost thoughtfully. "We've been so blind. The blasted _girl _with her blasted Alliance_ is _Wisdom."

* * *

"I have a job for you." His voice was barely audible, cracking. There was too much interference, she reasoned, and she gripped her crossbow tighter. "Tabuu's orders," he added.

She ignored his second statement. "What is it?"

"I need their location."

"Roger that, general."

"Good." She swore she could see him smirking from the other end of the walkie-talkie.

* * *

Time seemed to sweep past them, like a whirling, furious tornado.

Link had no concept of time, not after the mission on the Sky region. They had been lying low, after all. People still trained vigorously, and if he was honest, there seemed to be no change in their grim attitude. The only people who seemed to lighten up were the three from the Sky region.

Pit, the winged general, somehow had changed. He had become more mature. The childish light in his blue eyes never returned, and it was replaced with a different spark—the same spark he saw in Zelda's eyes. The tiny fire, flickering with vengeance.

Did he have that same fire? The same motivation? He didn't know. He really didn't. He didn't even know what he wanted. In a world where the end was all they had to look forward to, it seemed foolish and petty to want anything.

After all, he had to face facts. All the Alliance was doing was prolonging their fate. Day by day, they put things off. Day by day, death came closer. Day by day, they denied the facts.

But the facts would emerge, and the end with it.

He wanted that spark. He wanted a motivation, anything. He wanted to something to push him forward. Because the truth was, behind the indifferent demeanor and the warrior expression, he was scared. Frightened. He didn't want to die. Not now, not ever.

But day by day, things were building up. After all, there was only so much he could take.

Lucas and Ness, the two boys, were so blissfully unaware of everything. Somewhere, somehow, deep inside his heart, he envied them. He envied the feeling of just living. It was so stupid. In three years, boys became warriors. In three years, entire families were wiped out. In three years, their only hope was a group of about ten people.

And that left the girl with the crossbow, Midna. Midna had a head of flaming, orange hair, a cheeky grin, and a devious light in her crimson eyes. Despite her spirited personality, he knew she took everything as seriously as they did. He just knew. She was deadly with a crossbow. That he wasn't sure of—but he wasn't willing to test her.

Sometimes, Link just sat there. He reflected on his life; a mess of shattered dreams, blood, and so many lost things.

He sat there, hands folded on his lap. The creaky, rusted chair broke under his weight and a door nearby opened on its rusty hinges. It was far from perfect. But it was all he had. This was his life, now. And he would defend it.

The feeling—a feeling he couldn't identify—was brewing in his heart. It felt sick and twisted. He didn't like this feeling.

The smell of freshly baked bread wafted in his direction, and he inhaled. It smelled fresh. The only thing that wasn't tainted by this—this world. This disease. Peach was probably cooking breakfast. Outside, it was dark, as it usually was. Link guessed it was morning.

The feeling, he realized, was fear. Why? He was unsure. It was just there—it was always there. The sinking feeling of dread settling in his stomach.

"You're up early." Zelda slid into the seat next to him. Her cowl was off, but she was still wearing her suit, with the red emblem of an eye. He guessed it was her brother's. Her long curtain of dark hair tumbled down her back. She wouldn't meet his gaze.

"I can't tell if it's early or not anymore," he confessed, and laughed. It was a shaky, unstable laugh.

Link noticed the bow. She always had her bow with her, the gigantic Golden bow. The one she used to save him.

Why? Why had she done so? It was the second time she had saved him. It was almost as if she—no, he wouldn't think about that. Not now. Not in the path of destruction.

She just nodded. The stormy eyes looked empty, and she stared off into space. It must have been hard for her, he realized. Starting an Alliance with literally nothing. Starting over in the same castle where so many hideous things happened. But, Link thought, it was probably the mentality of a leader.

"Why did you save me?" he found himself asking. It wasn't the time to confront her about this. But there was no turning back. Not now. "Again?" he added.

No answer. She turned away from him.

This stiff feeling—the stagnant tension in the air—he didn't like it. It was a mistake. It was all a mistake. He shouldn't even—

"There isn't always an answer to every question you ask."

The feeling of dread seemed to sink deeper. He felt like he was drowning.

"How much longer do we have?" Link demanded. This impatience—it was tormenting. _After all, there was only so much he could take._

"What do you mean?" she still refused to face him. It was infuriating.

"Before," he paused, searching for the right words, "before everything comes crashing down. Before we lose."

He was talking faster now. Fear had gotten the best of him. He didn't want to die. Not now. He was too young.

She turned around to face him. That expression—the cold expression was back.

"We won't lose. I'll make sure of that." Her words did little to soothe him.

"But we're not doing anything!" He cried. All the built up feelings were released all at once—a mess. He was making a mess of everything. "There could still be people out there—"

"I'm trying!" Their eyes met. Her gaze was intense. It was like that time when he first met her. Everything was happening all over again.

Stop. Play. Repeat.

And then she turned away. He could _feel _her emotions, the pressure, the feeling of simply not being able to do anything. It confused him. How could he feel her emotions? Her memories? It was like they had some sort of bond, some sort of connection...

He felt guilty, but it was pointless to try and take words back now.

She stood up, and staggered towards the door to the main hallway. He saw the bandages wrapped around her calves, where the Follower had bit her. That, too, was his fault. The feeling of guilt mingled with dread.

She stumbled, tripped.

Immediately, he felt his feet moving.

"I'm sorry," he said, and reached out a hand to help her. She brushed it away and hauled herself to her feet.

Link was worried. Beneath the bandages, what if the bite was infected? What if—

"I'm fine." She snapped, and the doors closed behind her. Link sighed. She was too proud, sometimes.

_But there's only so much someone can take. _

* * *

Finally, she took refuge in her room. She sagged against the wall, and her tough exterior crumbled.

Why was it that this _boy_, this boy who was nearly killed weeks ago in the Sky region, could make her feel this way?

She buried her face in her hands. The distress was overwhelming.

But he was right. It was only a matter of time. She didn't want to give them hope, she couldn't work miracles.

She had failed.

Zelda bit her tongue, and felt the wave of salty tears. Stupid. Stupid Zelda. Stupid weak Zelda. So weak and stupid—can't do anything. But if anything, she would rather die trying than succumb to defeat.

Because she was the rightful ruler of the Hyrule region. She was Sheik's sister. She was Nayru's chosen. As if in tune to her words, the Triforce brightened. The golden flashed, brighter than the dim light.

If she was, supposedly, the wielder of Wisdom, than why didn't she feel so wise?

Zelda, hopelessly, told herself that this was a nightmare. Just a bad dream. She'd wake up, and anything would be okay. Sheik would still be alive. Everything would be the same. Their world wouldn't be a mass of darkness, ravaged and left to die.

Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

_WAKE UP, ZELDA—_

* * *

The sudden sound of rolling thunder woke him up, and Link sat up. He was still in the room where they served breakfast, still in the same, squeaky chair. He blinked. It was probably raining again. There was a flash of lightning from outside, and he shivered. Link hated this moments.

Sure enough, the rain came, pattering down like tears from the Goddesses above. It was strangely empty. He could hear Peach tending to someone from in her office, but aside from that, it was deadly quiet. It was silence so stony it was loud.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Midna's voice echoed from the far end of the room. He looked. She was standing there, looking out the window.

Link stood up. His legs felt stiff from lack of movement, and he walked next to her.

"That's one way of seeing it." Storms made him uneasy.

It was the feeling, the feeling of being at someone's mercy. That was how he felt when he saw a storm.

Raging clouds and bursting thunder, flashes of blue lightning everywhere. Rain rushing down like an endless waterfall. He didn't see how Midna thought this could be beautiful. If anything, it was frightening.

"Do you ever have that feeling?" Her voice was soft and intimate. The question caught him off guard. "The feeling of just breaking away? Starting over?"

Link felt uneasy, and he knew it wasn't because of the storm.

Midna's eyes met his. A dangerous crimson.

He swallowed.

"Yeah," Link said, "the feeling of starting over."

"Get used to it."

He didn't know what to make of her words.

* * *

"Hey, boss. I've got good news."

"Their location already?" Ganondorf couldn't mask the surprise in his voice.

"Hyrule Castle."

"Good. We'll attack tomorrow. Be ready."

"I already am." There was a smile in her voice.

* * *

**Please review! I'm sorry this took so long, but I ended up rewriting practically the whole chapter. xD**


	8. The Betrayer Among Us

**Almost done the story!**

**Once again, I'm sad about having to use Midna. **

**Onwards. (grumpy.)**

* * *

Ganondorf raised a hand to knock on the door. That was strange, he thought, Doctor Hand hasn't been out for a while.

Hesitating for a split-second, he knocked on the door sharply.

No answer.

Adjusting his reddened cape, the general knocked again, more persistently this time. Still, no answer. Impatient and somewhat furious, Ganondorf kicked the door open. It swung open easily, slamming against the wall. Doctor Hand's lab was a mess. There were broken beakers littered everywhere. Spots of red stained the floor. It smelled like a hospital.

Ganondorf had a strange feeling. Doctor Hand was nowhere in sight.

Always on his guard, he closed the door and stepped inside, while accidentally stepped on a piece of glass. Chaos.

"Are you there?" he called. Doctor Hand wouldn't ignore him.

He thought wrong.

Ganondorf kicked more pieces aside, and his hands found the light switch. With the lights on, he saw the full picture of havoc.

There was so much hidden chaos. Obliterated pieces of wood lay here and there. Bones were strewn around, as if a wolf had eaten everything but the bones. This emptiness—the queer feeling of empty but not quite gone—was frightening.

The Doctor's lab table was set in the far end, and something shimmering caught his eye. The empty feeling wouldn't leave.

He shook at aside and was almost at the table when something lunged towards him. It was a blur of red eyes, rotting flesh, and frenzied hair. Ganondorf swung his blade and the creature leapt backwards. It was barely noticeable as Doctor Hand. The torn labcoat was still draped around his shoulders. Ganondorf saw a sick, green vial on the floor, an arm where the arm shouldn't have been, and everything clicked together.

Doctor Hand, in desperation for his arm, had fallen to his last resort: the twisted result of his research.

The Follower that used to be Doctor Hand bared its teeth, long and sharp. It reminded him of a wolf. Good. He was hungry for wolf. It leapt towards him, managing to tear a piece of his cape. But Ganondorf was faster. All it take was a long, clean slice of his sword and the Doctor was gone, his research secrets with him as well as all hopes of an antidote.

Ganondorf told himself that the Doctor brought this upon himself. He didn't trust Tabuu and so he had gotten what he deserved. But the dead, red eyes staring back at him said otherwise.

Ganondorf didn't like this. He was backing towards the door, when he remembered the vial that had first caught his eye.

With scrambling hands, he picked up the vial. His mind was screaming at him.

_WRONG—IT'S WRONG—_

He looked at the dead body of what used to be Doctor Hand. But there was something about this vial—something that told him it was okay to take chances. The liquid was clear, blue, like the ocean.

He knew what it was. He just knew.

Backing away from the empty room, he closed the door behind him. Ganondorf was breathing heavily, though he didn't know why. The stench of twisted science and desperate dreams clung to his armour.

* * *

"We're launching the attack soon." Ganondorf hoped she'd be able to hear him. She did.

"Alright," she answered coolly, "but is that the only reason you're speaking to me?"

He swallowed.

"The antidote," he said at last, "I've found it."

* * *

The castle was tall, looming in the distance. The outline was barely visible thanks to the night sky, but it was definitely Hyrule Castle. Ganondorf hid a smile. Wisdom was there. Their whole victory, in the palm of his hand. But he had to be careful. He had to wait.

The small army of Followers, who were once human, were silent. They stood behind Ganondorf, masked by the endless darkness. Nayru and Farore wouldn't be here to help their chosen.

Not this time.

How fun it would be to watch the walls of the castle crumble at his command. It would be even more amusing to watch their hopes, their small light of defiance, be blown out.

His mad smile grew even wider.

The burning brand in his shoulder reminded him of his promise Din and hers to him. Power.

_POWER—_

There was a rustle of movement through the Followers and he took note that they were getting restless. That was good.

Last time, he had lost. Last time, he had been shamed. Humiliated.

But not this time.

This time, they would fall right into his hands, begging for mercy. And he would grant them none.

They weren't expecting him to attack. He had the element of surprise.

Ganondorf was motivated by these thoughts and the smile expanded even farther across his face.

He gave them the signal and they marched, silently like wolves, under the starless night sky.

_Run, girl. Run._

* * *

Zelda awoke to frenzied screaming and a horrible smell of fear and sweat. She jumped out of her bed. Sweat rolled down her forehead, and she wiped it away. Somewhere; somehow, she knew something had gone wrong.

The dark feeling of fear worked its way into her gut as she swung open the door, clutching her beloved bow-and-arrow.

Outside, there was a real picture of chaos. The few members of the Alliance ran, dashing madly for their weapons. The door to the secret storage of bombs and arrows and grenades was swung open. People were grasping emergency weapons.

The feeling of fear only grew and she could only watch.

"What's happening?" she shouted, but her cries were barely heard over the mess.

For good measure, Zelda grabbed a bomb and looked for somebody who would listen to her. Even the two young ones, Lucas and Ness, were ready for battle. They, too, dashed to the far end of the room where the balcony was.

There was only one explanation—they were under attack.

Numb with fear, she tried to regain her calm and followed them.

The picture outside on the balcony was even more devastating. A massive group of Followers were marching towards the entrance of the castle, led by a man in a scarlet-stained cloak. The picture etched in her mind before she could understand anything.

The Followers were slowly falling. Samus shot rapidly with her gun, and reached for more bullets. Marth hurled bombs, shouting savage cries to mask his fear.

Chaos.

Peach grabbed her sniper and shot. A Follower collapsed, one out of many.

Pit reached for a blue arrow and fired. Before it reached its target, he was already reaching for another arrow. With frightening power, Lucas and Ness were firing with devastating bolts of power.

Even so, something told her they would lose.

"Aim for Ganondorf!" Zelda told them, and they nodded. It was devastating, and it angered Zelda to think that these Followers were once her people. They were once citizens—women, children, men from the Sky and Hyrule regions. And now, they were tiny, pointless toy soldiers marching to his command.

The anger flared, but it was overpowered by the fear.

The army was huge. There was no way, she had to admit, that a group of ten could defeat a group of five hundred. Well, she estimated there were around five hundred, give or take.

How? She longed to know. How did he know their location? Their location was hidden; the castle was believed to be abandoned. They were _safe._ She was supposed to create a haven for the few survivors. The failure, deeper than the fear, deeper than the feeling of death.

_How?_

She remembered Link's words.

"_Before everything comes crashing down. Before we lose."_

Link. Where was Link? Her brain refused to function, her legs refused to move, and she was shouting, desperately.

"Where's Link?"

Nobody seemed to answer. Arrows fired, bombs were thrown, Followers fell. And still they came.

Closer.

Closer.

Snake, a soldier, threw a grenade. There was a small explosion, lighting up the deadly darkness. He pointed gruffly to the hallway and she understood.

She ran, blindly, without knowing what she was doing. One thing was on her mind—Link. Where was he?

"Link!" Zelda called.

She already lost her brother. She lost her friends. She lost her family. She wouldn't lose him.

She saw flashes of green.

"Link!" She cried, and ran after him. Link turned to her. Panic was written all over his face in horrid colors. His sword was at his side. Melee weapons were no good. He needed projectiles.

"Midna," he said breathlessly, "where's Midna?"

Midna.

Everything came into place. A horrible puzzle.

Everything clicked.

Answers to her endless questions.

Midna hadn't been Marked. So why was she saved from the disease? Ganondorf didn't know where they were. So why now?

There was a betrayer among them.

And it was Midna.

The feeling, the feeling of betrayal barely affected her. Her mind spun, she nearly collapsed, but she steadied herself.

Not now, Zelda, she told herself weakly.

"Stay her," she told Link, and ran back towards the Alliance on the balcony.

People were still firing. Snake hurled another bomb and reached for his sniper. Samus fired; endlessly. It was a storm, a pointless, desperate storm.

The army of Followers never seemed to end. Even though some fell, more kept marching on. More and more. Such a waste, such a waste of lives.

"Guys!" Zelda shouted. It took all her effort not to collapse. They all stopped firing and turned to her. Sweat coated their faces.

"Forget this," she ordered, "just barricade the doors and stop them from coming in."

They nodded, and in a blur of movement, all moved. The entrance was three flights of stairs down.

Her heart leapt in her chest, madly, wildly, desperately. As they disappeared, she went to find Link.

_Nayru preserve us._

* * *

Zelda and Link ran, scavenging the rooms, stepping over the shattered pieces of glass. There was no sign of Midna. She wasn't anywhere.

How could they be so close and yet so far?

Midna's things, Zelda realized, were gone. She couldn't have left, not yet. Somebody would have noticed. Zelda reasoned Midna was still in the building, somewhere.

_Cat and mouse. _

It was a game of cat and mouse. Wildly, they searched. Fire seared Zelda's throat and pain swarmed her leg, but still, she moved.

_There._

She saw a flash. All it took was a split second, but she saw a flash of flaming, orange hair, and she leapt.

* * *

Marth threw another crate to the pile. They were barricading the door. Under Zelda's orders, they were to stop anything from coming in—or out.

He heard footsteps, and then Zelda and Link came down the stairs, grasping Midna. Without a word, they added another heavy object to the barricade and followed Zelda.

They were shut, in a room, behind a steel door. Samus and Snake stood guard, guns at their sides. If the barricade were to break, they would fire and let the others know.

It was a nightmare.

Zelda flung Midna into a chair, and they bound her there with long lines of rope. Midna's things were on the ground. Zelda couldn't bring herself to look at Link—the betrayal in his eyes; the _hurt _was too much for her to look at.

How? How could Midna have done such a thing?

"Speak." Zelda spat harshly. She would have no mercy, no mercy at all for the one who started all of this. No mercy for the betrayer among them.

Midna kept her mouth shut, stubbornly. Zelda could have screamed. Link was turned around. He didn't want to see this, she realized, and she knew the pain was too much for him.

Zelda wanted to comfort him, but she knew she couldn't.

_Nayru, if you hear me..._

Peach threw Zelda her pistol and Zelda aimed at Midna's head. She pressed the cold barrel against the other girls' skull.

She didn't know how long they had. She didn't know how long before the barricade broke. She didn't know how long before _everything came crashing down. _

_...if you hear me, lend me your strength._

"Speak." Zelda hissed, more urgently this time. She hoped Midna felt the venom in her voice.

Zelda still couldn't comprehend everything, the harsh betrayal, the bitter truth. The loss.

The Followers were closer, now. At the door, almost. She was certain.

"This is _bullshit_." Zelda swore through clenched teeth. Still, Midna would not speak. Just how loyal was she to Ganondorf? "I'll fire," Zelda promised, "I'll let this bullet rip through your pretty head."

She felt her sweaty hands clench the pistol tighter.

"One..." Zelda started the countdown.

Her grip got tighter and her hands got sweatier.

"I'll speak!" Midna cried at last, and Zelda swore she saw Link flinch a little more. There was something else in Zelda's heart.

Was it jealousy?

"Tell me about their hideout," Zelda urged. She was speaking without knowing what was going on.

Any minute, now. The barricade wouldn't hold against an army of five hundred.

"Alright," Midna stammered, "there's a room, Doctor Hand's room, and—"

"The antidote."

"The antidote is in his room, and Tabuu's hideout is at the top floor. You need to put the antidote in his hideout, in the holder, for the disease to be released. The antidote will release smoke to cure them." Midna was stammering now. Her words were coming so fast Zelda could barely understand them.

Zelda drew her pistol back.

"If I was smart," Zelda said, struggling to keep her voice as calm as possible, "I would kill you right now. But I'm not."

She tossed the pistol back to Peach.

Link turned around to face Midna.

"I trusted you," he said finally. His voice was hollow; empty. Devoid of any emotion.

_Any minute now..._

She heard a crash.

She heard the explosion.

The barricade had given way.

Ganondorf strode in, scarlet cape billowing behind him. Her worst fears had come true. And behind him, was the massive army of Followers.

Fear completely overtook Zelda. She just stood there, numb. The final feeling, the finality of her failure, finally sank in.

"Hello," Ganondorf said pleasantly, "Zelda, Sheik's little sister, the captain of the Alliance."

Numbness.

His eyes, the lion eyes, drifted to Midna, tied to a chair. Link gripped his sword so tight his knuckles grew white.

This man.

His fury longed to be unleashed, but he knew it was pointless.

This was it.

This was where everything came crashing down.

Zelda stood there stiffly. Behind her back, she tossed her bow-and-arrow to Link. He took it, and clutched it. Ganondorf never noticed.

"Midna," Ganondorf said. The fake, pleasant tone never left his voice. "Thank you. You've been incredibly helpful."

Then, in a move as dangerous and as quickly as a lion's, he snatched a gun from his belt and shot Midna.

The loud gunshot ripped through the tension. The bullet hit Midna's chest, clean and easy.

Link couldn't turn around. He didn't want to see it. He tried to feel anything other than anger and fear, yet he could not. Zelda's eyes met Link's.

Ganondorf turned his lion eyes back to Zelda.

"You have two choices, girl," he hissed. All traces of fake honey were gone from his voice. "I either unleash my army here," he gestured to the Followers, "on your entire Alliance and massacre them..."

Zelda froze. Her eyes glazed over, and all blood drained from her face.

"...or, you turn yourself in to me. And I take you back to Lord Tabuu." The pleasant tone was back.

Zelda's words were caught in her throat. She was scared. But the answer was clear in her heart. It was her life for the lives of nine other people. She knew.

Everyone else was silent. They didn't dare move.

Link knew her choice too. He wanted to scream. He wanted to reach out and stop her. He wanted to offer himself up instead.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

Zelda stepped towards the lion in the scarlet cloak.

"I surrender," she said, all emotion gone from her voice. The smile was on Ganondorf's face—a madman's smile.

With rusted, ugly, iron chains, he bound Zelda's hands and they walked, disappearing behind the debris.

* * *

**PLEASE review! :D**

**Two more chapters to go!**


	9. Run

**Edited 2-2-13. **

* * *

Ganondorf shoved her onto a slab of wood that he called a chair, never releasing the iron chains.

This was it.

This was the moment.

This was where everything she had worked for came crashing down.

She didn't know where she was, really. If Zelda was to guess, she was somewhere, hidden by thickets of dead trees and masked by the stench of rotting corpses. She could already smell it.

It was too dark for her to see anything, but she saw a grey, stone floor underneath her. It was even colder here than in the castle, but maybe she was just imagining it.

The chains bit into Zelda's hands and she bit her lip to avoid from saying anything. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

Her wrists were bleeding now, for the iron chains were sharp, with jagged edges ripping through her Sheikah suit.

Ganondorf smoothed his armour.

"Well." This was directed at her. His eyes met hers, the lion eyes. It was like he expected her to say something.

With as much defiance as she could muster, Zelda glared at him.

This feeling; this feeling was intense. Not only had she gotten captured, but they were doomed. The Alliance was dead. Even though he promised to spare them if Zelda had gone with him, Ganondorf was a liar. And it was sick how petty liars got away with everything.

She could only wish for a quick death; something so quick it would be as if she had never lived in the first place.

Well, she ran. She ran as far as she could, and it got her nowhere. The end of the pathway was still so far.

The golden lion eyes looked her up and down and Zelda felt exposed. But the key was not to look uneasy, no matter how she felt inside.

After all, her emotions were just another mask.

"I expected you to talk more." Ganondorf tried to sound calm, but it was just hiding his venom.

What was behind the draped mirrors?

She hated this man. With all her heart.

She hated him and it had done her no good.

This hatred was the only reason she had not given up altogether. A tiny part of her, despite the ruination, still clung desperately to hope.

But the hope was so far away, like a star. So bright. But she knew she would never reach it.

She was smarter than that.

So she just sat there, without a choice, staring back at him. Like a tiny mouse. And he was like a lion. This lion would devour her and enjoy every minute of it.

Then it came, fast and unexpected, like lightning on a warm summer night. He swung his arm, and the hard, armoured fist collided with her cheek.

The pain was nothing compared to the harsh reality of it all. The harsh truth was that she had failed.

The hope; the tiny glimmering star, seemed to fade.

She already knew a bruise would form where Ganondorf had struck her. Zelda knew it would be there; black and blue and purple. A shameful mark.

"I'll be back," he told her menacingly. All traces of false kindness were gone. "And when I do, I won't play with you. I'll take Wisdom and then you'll be lying in the streets, just another rotting corpse."

_Pray, tell me: does a lion play with his prey before he kills it?_

* * *

_Are you there? Do you hear me?_

He heard a voice; deadly quiet, echoing in the back of his mind. It might just have been his imagination, but he heard it. He didn't know what to make of it. Behind him, the people were silent.

It was a death mission. That he knew. But he would die fighting.

If this had happened before, he would have been content to die in the corner. After all, he almost did. But after this, after everything—he wouldn't give up.

(Yeah. I'm here.)

He thought, in reply to the strange voice. Was the voice just his imagination? Was he going crazy?

_You're going in the right direction. The light. Do you see it? _

The voice was soft. Almost broken. It was a female, he decided. It sounded so familiar, though he didn't know why.

He squinted. Sure enough, against the darkness, he saw traces of light.

(The light? Am I supposed to follow it?)

_Don't follow the light. _There was tinkling laughter, but it sounded so cynical. No laughter, no happiness felt real anymore. _Follow your heart. _

(Who are you?)

He could almost hear the voice frown.

_Wisdom._

The answer was vague, so vague. He didn't understand anything. Why was a disembodied voice echoing in his mind, after all?

He turned back to the man behind him.

"Do you see the light?" He asked. They still kept walking.

"No." The man answered matter-of-factly.

He squinted again. But the light was there, clear. Follow your heart? He had no heart. Not anymore.

But the something—and not just the voice—told him it was the right thing to do. It was right to follow the light.

The people he was leading clutched their bombs, their weapons, their arrows. It was remarkable how they were so ready to die fighting.

He wasn't a child anymore, running away. He was running _to _the enemy.

He was a warrior.

No, he was more than that.

He was Courage.

* * *

It was quiet. Deadly quiet. Zelda shivered. She felt cold and wet, but she realized it was her sweat. And perhaps blood.

How did it all come to this? It happened so fast.

The throbbing pain returned to her cheek, a faint reminder of her captivity. Another pain returned, duller this time, in her calf. The bandages wrapped around the bite were cold. She felt clammy.

She felt empty. Like a hollow jewel. Just sitting there. His to steal. But never his to own.

Zelda twisted her stiffening hands, heedless of the pain. She twisted a little harder and her Triforce glowed. It took a little bit of effort, but the sick chains finally gave way.

She smiled.

If she pretended well enough, Ganondorf would never notice the chains had broken.

Maybe, if she closed her eyes, everything would fade away and she would be back and everything would be back the way it used to be and—

Footsteps. Heavy footsteps.

No. It was him again. The lion. For not the first time in her life, Zelda felt afraid. She trembled on the slab of wood. Her bound hands were cold. She felt numb.

This numbness, this horrifying feeling of simply...not feeling at all was worse than pain, Zelda decided.

The door swung open, allowing her a bit of light, yet it disappeared just as fast. She realized Ganondorf had, in his hand, a long, blade. The blade that would most likely end her life.

"I killed your brother," his voice was low, "and I will kill you too."

He was a liar.

"You didn't kill my brother," she said. Her voice was so weak that it barely sounded like her at all. "I did." There was no pride in her voice. There wasn't anything in her voice. Her words were the truth and nothing more.

He got closer. She could feel it, the blade ripping through her neck. She could see it, life ending as she lay in the chair, darkness overcoming it all.

And Zelda realized, no matter how hard she tried to act like it was the worst thing ever, she wasn't scared. She didn't know why. A part of her, the child, still believed that her knight would come dashing in.

"You know," Ganondorf said, and lovingly skimmed his finger down the smooth, sharp surface of the sword, "as Captain of the Alliance, I thought you'd have a better plan than just surrendering."

Then she spoke. She didn't know where the words came from. Frankly, she didn't care.

Zelda lifted her head, and looked him straight in the eye.

"I do have a better plan than just surrendering." Her voice was strong. The Captain was back.

And bits and pieces of stone and wood flew apart as the explosion came.

* * *

"You get Zelda and the antidote," Snake hissed to Link, "I'll fight them off." The Followers, having been awoken from the cells, charged after them. Samus came beside him, gripping her gun.

"Go, Warrior." She smiled at Link. "Snake and I are here."

Link was overcome with emotion. He couldn't talk. Couldn't speak. This was it. This was the moment.

This was where everything could fall back into ruins. _They _were humanity's last chance.

This wasn't a game anymore.

In his hands was the Master Sword, and strapped to his back was Zelda's beloved bow-and-arrow.

"Thank you," he said at last, and he rushed through the pieces of falling debris. Samus and Snake fired rapidly behind him. Bullets met flesh.

And so Link ran through the debris, never looking back. He was afraid of what he would see. Marth and the other members trailed behind him, and the rain of bullets never stopped.

* * *

As soon as the explosion came, Zelda leapt out of the chair. The chains snapped, after all, she had already broken them. Ganondorf was too shocked to notice, and she kicked him in the stomach, sending him backwards. He staggered. The armour was too hard and sent electric jolts of pain running through her leg. She hissed.

Zelda didn't stay in that room. She didn't have her arrows, as she would have liked to, but she snatched some needles from her waistband and threw them. Three bounced harmlessly off of Ganondorf's armour and the fourth whizzed right past his neck.

When he tried to retaliate, she was gone, dancing amid the ruins.

The only thing on Zelda's mind was the antidote. Midna had said it was in Doctor Hand's room. But where was that?

She was an animal now, so she had to play it like an animal. She followed her instincts. Twists and turns, gunshots and explosions. Followers howled from far away, and she realized that they weren't so far away after all.

"Zelda!" She heard a voice. Link's voice. Flying through the air was her bow-and-arrow, and she caught it, happy to have it in her hands again.

If she had time, she would congratulate Link. She was so proud of him. He followed her, but now, she didn't have time.

The enemy was so close. But she wouldn't get tied down. Not again.

Link was sprinting beside her, and a Follower's arm rose above the wreckage. She fired an arrow and the arm fell limply.

"His room!" she told Link, and he followed her.

It was a mad dash for survival.

They were running, quickly. Victory was close. They just needed the antidote and then the tower and—

A dead end. They skidded to a stop. Zelda's heart was dancing in her throat. She couldn't catch her breath, she felt as if she was burning down to her soul.

She turned, frantically. There was nowhere to go but back. Howls told her the Followers were gaining on her.

They were so close, but so far...

There was a gigantic explosion and the wall next to them burst into pieces. Marth stood in the mess, and wiped his brow.

Marth offered them a shortcut. And in his hands, Zelda saw the glowing blue vial. The antidote.

"Come," he told Zelda and Link, "I know where Tabuu's room is."

* * *

Ganondorf rose from the ruins. How? How could she? The stupid girl. It was his fault, really. He offered her mercy and she snatched it.

His anger flared, and Ganondorf stormed out of the ruins. He would find them. They could run, but there would be nowhere to hide.

For a lion always finds its prey.

Meanwhile, Zelda and Link followed Marth. Followers trailed after them. But Zelda fired her arrows and Link cut down the ones that dared to get close enough.

Link didn't know what happened to Samus and Snake. He didn't even know if they were still alive. He didn't know what happened to the other members aside from Marth.

The sinking feeling was there. He didn't want them to die. They were his family, now. They were all he had.

_Farore. Keep them safe._

They ran up spiraling stairs. Unimaginable numbers of Followers trailed after them, but they were faster.

Zelda saw them approaching, and panicking, she snatched a smoke bomb from her pocket and hurled it down the stairs.

That should stop them for a little while, she thought.

Up and up they went, running higher and higher, farther and farther away. Sweat rolled down Marth's face. His hands trembled and Falchion nearly slipped from his sweaty hands.

They finally arrived in a room, at the top of the horrific palace. A tower rose out of the roof. That was where the antidote had to go. Marth threw the antidote to Link, a gesture of pride and trust.

"Go, put it there—"Marth was cut off.

In a burst of smoke and exaggerated fire, Tabuu and Ganondorf stood before them. Zelda's heart lurched. She nearly staggered forward.

_Not now, Nayru. I'm not joining you in the Sacred Realm just yet._

Zelda glanced at Link. She could feel it, their connection. She needed that connection more than ever.

_Link. Can you hear me? _

(Zelda? That was you?)

_Listen to me. Marth and I will hold them off. Go—just go for the tower. No matter what happens, you must release the antidote. _

(I understand—)

"_Run_!" She shouted savagely, and they sprang into action. Link ran as fast as his legs could, over the ruined floor, and past Tabuu and Ganondorf. The tower was the most important thing now. Swinging his legs, Link grasped the tower with sweaty hands and hoisted himself up.

Up and up he started to climb.

Zelda fired another arrow and leapt backwards, barely avoiding Ganondorf's blade. Her Triforce was going out of control—there was so much power she needed to release.

A burst of fire, _her _fire, caught Ganondorf off guard and he stumbled backwards. Marth was fighting Tabuu with serene grace.

_THUDTHUDTHUD—_

That was her chance. She seized it.

Drawing a tiny dagger from her pocket, Zelda jumped towards Ganondorf. A tigress against a lion.

She stabbed him, clean, on his neck. It felt _good. _Blade through flesh, blade through bone, blade through blood, blade through lion.

She pulled it backwards ruthlessly. Ganondorf stared at her with golden eyes that were slowly glazing over.

"That was for Sheik," se whispered. And Zelda stabbed him again, right into the chest, through the glimmering armour.

"And _that _was for me."

Using the remains of her power, with a burst of energy from the Triforce, Zelda forced herself to disappear.

Tabuu growled. A small, abrupt burst of energy sent Marth flying backwards. Courage was climbing the tower.

No.

He jumped towards the tower, as fast, and began climbing after the boy.

Link swallowed. He wouldn't look down. He wouldn't look down. He just kept climbing, up and up. The antidote was in his hands, everything was _so close—_

And then, he saw flashes of movement and somebody was climbing after him. His heart jumped, and Link felt his breathing quicken.

He forced his tired limbs to move faster. Up and up. Up and up.

Tabuu was still advancing on him. Their eyes met, and Tabuu smiled.

Link didn't see the knife in Tabuu's hands.

Zelda did.

And so when Tabuu was about to throw the knife and end everything, Farore's Wind brought Zelda in front of Tabuu.

She didn't feel anything. The knife ripping through her wasn't as painful as she thought. She appeared out of a nowhere, with her arrows, and as she threw her full weight onto Tabuu, they both fell downwards.

"Zelda!" Link wanted to shout. He could only watch, as she fell, the sharp edge of a knife jutting out of her back. Still, he climbed.

And still, they fell.

Down, down, down, down, down...

The impact on the ground wasn't as hard for Zelda, for Tabuu took the full impact. Grabbing an arrow from her quiver with shaking hands, she plunged it into his heart, ignoring the blade wedged between her ribs.

She was losing blood. Fast. But Tabuu would die first.

"And _this _is for the world."

Tabuu's dying smile was the last thing she saw before everything went black.

* * *

**Stick around for the last chapter!**


	10. A Warrior's Tears

**2-2-13:**** ...Ugh, I realized when I accidentally reuploaded this chapter I uploaded a snippet of a one-shot I was planning to write. It was very crappy and cheesy and I apologize to anybody who saw that.**

**HOW EMBARRASSING. ;A; **

* * *

She blinked.

Once, twice maybe. More than that.

Her vision was hazy; blurred. She could hear noises; strange noises, strange shapes in front of her. She blinked again and everything came into view.

Above her, the darkness had faded. Sunlight streaked down, warm and welcoming.

Zelda's head hurt. There was a dull, persistent pain in her chest. Every breath came out ragged. It hurt. It hurt to _live_.

She found herself in someone's arms.

"You're awake." Somebody laughed; a strange, choked laughter. Like they were happy-mixed-sad laughter. Zelda thought it was strange. Her head spun, her chest hurt, everything was a mix.

It felt weird. She felt light. Like this wasn't reality. Like it was a dream. Like nothing mattered anymore.

Memories came flooding back. Of knives and lions. Of antidotes and towers. Of dreams.

Did they succeed?

Zelda struggled to sit up, but the person holding her pressed her back down gently.

"You're not strong enough yet." The voice was soft. Kind. Zelda stared up into cerulean eyes. Link.

"The antidote," she said. Or at least, she tried. Her voice was raspy and dry in her throat. Her chest heaved. It hurt; so much.

"I got it. Everything's okay." Link soothed her. Zelda realized that bandages; linen, blood-stained bandages were wrapped all around her. Around the horrible wound. Absent-mindedly, he ran his fingers through her hair.

Once again, everything felt weird. She felt so light-weight.

Zelda couldn't comprehend what was going on. It hurt too much. Nothing made sense—the antidote.

"The disease? Is it gone?" Common sense was returning to her; slowly. Steadily.

"It's gone. Everything's gone. You won." His voice was strained with emotion. Zelda blinked her heavy eyelids and stared up towards the sky. Pieces of the roof had fallen away; creating rubble. And up in the sky, the sun smiled down at her. No darkness. None at all.

A smile spread across her face. And then, pieces of common sense slid together once more.

"Captain," she told him jokingly, "what's our status?"

He laughed. It sounded hollow, yet happy at the same time. Her tired mind couldn't understand how that was possible.

"Marth's wounded. He's got a few bruised ribs, but he'll live. Snake and Samus have a few broken bones, but they're alive. Everything's in good condition. They're gone."

He didn't need to explain what was gone. She knew. She just knew. The disease-everything.

"Good..." Her sentence trailed off. Everything trailed off.

And then the breathing got harder, the pains increased, everything spun, her mind ached, and everything went black once more.

Link was in hysterics. She was awake. He had her. Almost. But now...

"Peach!" He cried, shouting for the blonde nurse. Peach shuffled towards him, limping because of a sprained ankle. She saw Zelda and she shook her head.

Peach kneeled beside Zelda's body.

"Will she be alright?" Link's questions bombarded Peach. Not now, not when everything was over. She couldn't die now.

"She'll live," He could barely hear the nurse's voice, "but the question is..."

* * *

"_...do you want to live?" Zelda blinked. She sat up, and wrapped her arms around herself. She was sitting, on grass. Clouds roamed lazily above her._

_Somebody was standing in front of her. Red eyes, blonde hair. Gentle smile. Sheik._

_She couldn't speak. Her mouth was frozen._

"_Sheik?" She stammered._

_A smile._

"_Do you want to live?" He repeated. "It's your choice. Life or death. Your mission is over. Everything is over. You can go here—"He gestured towards a staircase. "The Sacred Realm..."_

_Where was she? The in-between? In-between life and death? Hazy. Still so hazy._

"_...or you can go back there." He pointed to another staircase. Zelda couldn't understand. Her emotions were explosive. Sheik. Her brother. Alive. In front of her. Not a monster._

"_I—"She trailed off._

_The world down there. There was still so much. They were starting over. Anew. The disease was gone. Everything was gone._

"_I..."_

* * *

Link closed the door behind him. Zelda was resting, or at least, her body was. They still didn't know if she was dead or alive. There was a pulse, of course, but she seemed to be out cold. Peach's statement resonated in his mind. Chilling.

"_Does she want to live?"_

Of course Zelda did. Zelda wouldn't leave him behind. Zelda wouldn't—

He was being selfish.

People, all around him, were standing up. People that used to be Followers. After he'd placed the antidote in the tower, everything exploded. Smoke, everywhere. He couldn't see anything. And then he saw this. People, children, women, men, standing up. Normal people.

Everything was over.

He laughed. It seemed so surreal. Link, a Warrior. Zelda, lying in her bed, half-way dead.

A little girl pulled on his shirt and he looked down.

The girl had two blonde pigtails and a curious gaze. A woman who appeared to be her mother came trailing after them.

"Is everything gonna be alright?" The girl was so cute. He realized the question was directed at him. With the blonde pigtails and the cute manner, she almost looked like...

"Aryll?" He wondered aloud. The girl looked at him strangely, and he smiled, ignoring the burning shame. Of course the girl wasn't Aryll.

"Don't worry about it." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. The girl smiled.

"I had a dream," she told him, "about these pale creatures and darkness and bodies...It was scary." She shivered.

Link smiled at her fondly.

"It was just a nightmare. Everything is okay now."

The girl seemed to brighten up at his words and she popped a finger into her mouth, still staring at him with her wide, vast eyes.

"What's your name, mister?"

The smile never faded from Link's face.

"Link."

"Mine's Saria."

* * *

"Where are you planning to go now, Marth?" Link sat with Marth. There were bandages wrapped around Marth's ribs and his legs. Link realized it was a lot of work for Peach.

"I don't know." The blue-haired man shrugged, and winced because it hurt to do so. "I really don't."

"You could stay with us." Link said automatically. But what exactly was 'us'? The other members of the Alliance were probably returning home. To their families, who had most likely recovered. Those who used to be Followers reverted to humans. The dead never rose, but it was good enough.

And he realized the other members didn't have family. This was their family now. They'd stay together and—

"I think I'd like that." Marth smiled.

* * *

As Link made his way back to Zelda's room, he couldn't describe his feelings. Everywhere, people coming back to normal. It was amazing. Apparently, to these people, everything had just been a dream.

He wished.

But as much as he hated to admit it, the disease had changed his life. He had met Zelda. He had met some of the most courageous, most skilled fighters he had ever known. And he had changed.

Warrior. Courage.

He opened the door, peering inside. Zelda still lay on the makeshift bed. She was so still. Small, little breaths came out in a steady rhythm. She almost looked like she was sleeping.

This woman willingly put her life up for him. For the world. And now, when everything was over, she was finally willing to let go.

"Don't let go," he whispered, and held her hand tightly. It was cold and surprisingly small.

And then, the small hand warmed up and grasped his as well. Slowly, she sat up, and stormy eyes stared back at him. There was a smile in those eyes.

"Not yet."

* * *

**- FIN –**

* * *

**Wow, guys, it's been a blast. I loved writing this story. I really did. I doubt you loved reading it as much as I loved writing it, but PLEASE review! My original plan was to kill Zelda off (just for angst) and then I was like, NAH...**

**As for LLB and Psychic Prince, I hope you liked it.**

**Thank you to everyone for supporting me till the end. It was really, amazingly, truthfully fun to write this story. What a major accomplishment for me—nearly 25,000 words in two months? :D**

**Please review! And good luck to me in the contest, haha. **


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